


Holding Onto Our Pride

by caswell



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Butch Christine, Butch Jenna, Butch/Butch, F/F, Femslash February, Squipped Christine, We Are All pining, also michael and jeremy are pining idiots, also technically it's christine's squip not THE squip but yk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: Christine Canigula, a butch lesbian and self-proclaimed loser, is offered a unique opportunity when her bully tells her about SQUIPs, supercomputers in the forms of pills that instruct people on how to be cool. But what will the consequences be of becoming popular and wooing her notorious crush, Jenna Rolan?





	1. Pre-SQUIP

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who's supported me in the writing of this fic! It's one of the longest I've ever written and y'all were a huge help in keeping me sane.  
> Minor TW for lesbophobic slurs in this chapter.

_“How now, spirit? Whither wander you?”_

Christine’s strong voice rings out into her otherwise-quiet bedroom, lit only by the pale morning sunlight that streams in through the picture window. _“The king doth keep his revels here tonight,”_ she continues. _“Take heed-”_

“Ugh, shut _up,_ Christine,” comes a voice from the bed behind her, and Christine feels a pillow hit her abruptly in the back of the head. “I only have two more hours to sleep before my morning class.”

Christine sighs and shoves her script back into the largest pocket of her brown backpack. “Sorry, Nicole,” she mumbles to her sister, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she leaves the room. Just another day in the Canigula house. But it wouldn’t just be another day for long! Because today is the first day of play rehearsal. Christine spins in a circle as she reaches the kitchen, spreading her arms wide and grinning at the thought. There’s nothing she loves more, and, better yet, this year their school’s theatre department is putting on _A Midsummer Night’s Dream-_ her absolute favorite. _Only seven hours to go,_ she thinks excitedly to herself, and grabs her water bottle from the fridge before scurrying out of the house.

As soon as she sets foot outside her home, Christine’s got her script out again and is looking down at it, hardly paying attention to the sidewalk in front of her. _“Take heed the queen not come within his sight,”_ she proclaims, _“For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, because that she, as her attendant, hath a lovely boy stolen from an Indian king…”_

“Christine?”

_“She never had so sweet a changeling…”_

“Chris?”

_“And jealous Oberon would have the child, knight of his train, to trace the forests wild…”_

“Christine!”

Christine finally looks up and grins as she sees her best friend, dressed beautifully as always, blonde hair fluttering in the wind. “Brooke! Hi! Sorry! I was practicing…”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Brooke says with a giggle. She kicks at the fallen leaves on the ground as she walks with one short, black boot, then asks, “Hey, so, me and Chloe were thinking of going to the mall tonight… you wanna come with?”

Christine makes a noncommittal _ehhhh_ noise and looks away awkwardly. Brooke’s her neighbor, and she’s been her best friend since _forever,_ but she got popular in the sixth grade and Christine, well, Christine’s a butch lesbian with ADD, is she really going to fit in with all those popular kids? The answer is a strong no, evidently. “Y’know, I don’t think Chloe really likes me… I think I’ll pass.”

Crestfallen, Brooke replies, “Oh. ...Some other time then, I guess.” The frown isn’t on her face for long, though, and soon, she says, “If you’re content hanging out with Jeremy and Michael, then I can’t really force you to hang out with my popular friends, y’know.”

“You make it sound like I’m settling, Brookie,” Christine sighs. “They’re really nice guys! You just gotta give ‘em a chance. I could even see you and Jer as a couple, actually…”

Brooke gives a soft laugh at that. “Nah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” she says, and swipes her tongue over her lips, and Christine’s known her for long enough to know there’s something she wants to say but won’t. Before she can ask what the deal is, though, Brooke continues, “So. Jenna Rolan do anything cute lately?”

Christine stops dead in her tracks and makes sort of a sputtering sound, looking, flustered, at Brooke. “You- you- oh, shush!” She slaps Brooke gently in the shoulder, and Brooke just laughs. “What! What’s so funny!”

Brooke tugs on the sleeve of Christine’s jean jacket, pulling her along as they near the school. “Nothing much,” she says, “you’re just fun to tease.”

Christine rolls her eyes. “Alright, ya goof. But, to answer your question…” She looks away shyly, folding and unfolding one corner of the script with a thumb and forefinger. “Okay, so, she was taking selfies in the bathroom on Friday and she was doing that cool thing that hot butches do- well, that's all butches, I guess, I've never seen a not-hot butch- where they lean their head back a little and smirk and-” Her heart is floating, her insides a ball of ruffling feathers; she feels as if she could faint. “And I checked them out on Instagram afterwards and I almost died, Brooke! For real!”

Brooke chuckles that silk-soft chuckle of hers. “Awwww, Chrissy's got it baaaad!” she chirps, poking Christine in the cheek. Christine bats her hand away with a matching laugh, then, as they reach the side doors of Middle Borough High, pushes through the door and holds it open for Brooke. “Thanks, Chris,” she says, and beams at her like she puts the stars in the sky.

“No prob, Bob,” Christine replies, and adjusts one of the pins on her jacket. “The advantage to having a butch bestie: there's always someone to hold the door for you.”

“And what's the advantage of having a feminine bestie?” Brooke asks.

Humming, Christine ponders it for a moment. “Fashion advice.”

“Oh, like you ever take my fashion advice, Miss Denim on Denim,” Brooke shoots back, quick as a flash.

Christine huffs in mock offense. “Tackiness is butch culture, Miss… Miss… Can't Even Wear a Sweater Right!”

“Oh, it is _on!”_ Brooke says with a sly grin, and is about to go in for another jab at Christine's ramshackle wardrobe when she's cut off by a hand gripping her shoulder tight. She squeaks, and, when Christine looks up, Chloe Valentine is holding Brooke in her queenly vice grip.

“Yo, Chloe,” Christine says sheepishly, and is  given a scrutinizing look in return.

“Hey, Christine,” Chloe says, faking a sugar-sweet tone- like most straight girls, her love of gay people only extends to white gay boys who will go shopping with her and call her 'queen’. To Brooke, she says, “C’mon, Brooke. Time for study hall.”

With an apologetic smile, Brooke gives a little wave to Christine before she's whisked away. “Bye, Chrissy!” she calls down the hall.

“Bye, Brookie,” Christine says, a sigh into the deafening din of the crowd. And now, time for the worst part of the day: three straight hours of being alone in boring classes. In her mind, she starts a countdown: _3:00:00, 2:59:59, 2:59:58…_

 

 _00:00:00!_ Christine practically launches herself out of her seat when the bell signals the end of third period- Geometry, which may as well be astrophysics for how much she can understand it. She grabs her backpack off the ground and pushes through the crowd of students bunched up at the door and into the hallway, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Finally, she'll get to talk with her friends! She'd use her phone during class, but she's always been afraid of getting yelled at. She has no idea how everyone else does it.

As she walks to the lunch line, Christine grabs her water bottle from her bag and takes a long drink from it. She’s a performer, after all; she’s gotta keep her throat all lubed up. Christine’s got a mouth full of that sweet sweet H2O and is about to swallow when she knocks into something- or someone? Christine spits out her water and squeaks, pinwheeling her arms for a second to right herself. “Whoa-ho, ah, jeez, sorry-”

“Ugh, Christ.” Jenna Rolan herself looks with annoyance at the dark patch that’s spread across her purple and black flannel. “Watch where you’re goi- oh.” She looks up at Christine, and her demeanor softens a little. She’s a friend of a friend, after all. ...And a girl. “Uh, hey, Christine.”

“Hey, Jenna,” Christine greets her, sheepish yet buzzing with excitement. Sure, it isn't under the best circumstances, but she’s talking to Jenna Rolan! She can’t mess it up, not now… except, her mouth never really pays attention to what she wants to happen. “Look, I’m sorry about that, I wasn’t watching where I was going, cuz I couldn’t see over my water bottle that well, but y’know, I gotta drink, cuz I’m an actress, y’know, and I sing, and, like, I can’t talk or sing well if my throat’s all dry, it’s just logic! So I can’t have that, because acting is, like, the _only_ thing I’ve got…”

“Goootcha,” Jenna says, sounding a little bewildered. There’s a slight smile on her face, though. _Is that progress?_ Christine wonders. _...It’s probably not progress._

“Um…” Christine taps her feet and fiddles with the hem off her jean jacket, then blurts out, “Okay! I’m gonna go! Bye!” Cheeks burning, she hurries off, completely forgetting about getting lunch to sustain herself for the next five hours. _What even_ was _that?_ she scolds herself. _Can’t I be cool for two seconds of my life? Especially around Jenna?_ On the way to her lunch table, she nearly runs into yet another one of the popular crowd- notorious bully Rich Goranski, who had called her a lesbo on multiple occasions, usually getting told off by Brooke immediately afterwards. “Ah, jeez, sorry,” she says hastily.

“No big,” Rich says, and the look she catches from him for a split second as she walks quickly by is one of a deep understanding, one of an idea forming, that makes her frown in confusion. _He’s never looked at me like that before,_ she thinks. _...I don’t know if I_ want _him to look at me like that._

Finally, Christine reaches relative safety: a seat next to Jeremy Heere and Michael Mell- the second most iconic best friend duo at Middle Borough High School. (She’d like to think that she and Brooke are first, but y’know. Maybe there can be a different category for boys and girls.) “Hey, guys.” She makes a motion to put her lunch tray down before realizing she didn’t grab one. “Oh, crap,” she says, and sighs. “I’ve had a very stressful two minutes.”

Wordlessly, Jeremy slides Christine the Zebra Cake he was about to bite into, and Michael offers his potato chips for a healthy, balanced meal. “What happened?” he asks as Christine crunches into his gift.

“I spilled Jenna all ov- no, no. I spilled water all over Jenna, and then I almost bumped into Rich- y’know, Rich Goranski?- and he was looking all _weird_ at me, but he didn't even yell at me, and that's even weirder!” Christine answers. “I wish I could be, like, normal for once, y’know? Maybe not so awkward all the time? Like, jeez, all I’m asking for is a girlfriend! You guys for real have no idea how hard it is.”

“I’d disagree, but y’know, it’s a lot easier to get boyfriends than girlfriends- Jeremy can attest.” Jeremy squawks in protest and elbows Michael. “Ow, hey! Anyway,” Michael continues, “you want my advice? Just play it cool, y’know, be yourself! Who cares if you’re awkward? Ya gotta own it.”

“Michael, you’re the exception that proves the rule that that advice is _terrible,”_ Jeremy says from Michael’s other side. “Christine’s cute, like, she’s adorkable-” Christine beams- “but people don’t _like_ adorkable, y’know? People like… _smooth._ They like _sexy.”_

“Oh, I really don’t like how that sounds coming out of your mouth, Jer,” Christine teases, and Jeremy groans. “But he has a point, Michael. It really only works for you.”

Michael hums, considering the thought as he takes a drink from his slushie. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I guess I’m just naturally cool.”

“Well, I hope we’re not holding ya down,” Christine giggles- jokingly, of course; she knows that Michael’s perfectly content with where he is on the school social map. “D’you mind letting some of that coolness rub off on me?”

“I’ll try,” Michael says, and licks the palm of his hand; Jeremy pulls him away from Christine at the last second with a “ _No, you terrible little man.”_

Christine pauses, takes a moment to smile and be content. Sure, she’s not popular- in fact, she’s subject to a decent amount of bullying, even in the year of our Lord 2015- but being a loser is really okay sometimes. _Except_ … She looks away from the bickering boys and towards the other end of the lunchroom to where Jenna is sitting, surrounded by a few other popular girls, as always. _Except then there’s Jenna._ “It’s not wrong to wanna be normal, is it?” Christine asks, tapping her fingers on the grey-speckled tabletop. “Like, to wanna be cool? To wanna be with my crush?”

“Well… I guess not,” Michael says, turning back to Christine. “If that’s what you really want. I mean, we all wanna be with our crushes.” Christine doesn’t say anything about the way he nibbles at his lower lip at the thought, painfully aware of how close he is to his own. The two of them have had many a late-night text conversation about just that.

“I really do, guys,” Christine says, before taking a dejected bite of her Zebra Cake. “Like, sometimes it feels like I’m gonna- like I’m gonna explode, because I have so much love for her in my gay little heart, y’know? Y’know?”

“Boy, do I,” Jeremy says, and Christine knows that, too, because… well, what can she say? She’s the friend that everyone confides in. “Hey, you’ll get her someday. You were able to get _me,_ before you, um…”

“Before I chopped off my hair and started wearing guys’ clothes,” Christine finishes for him. “Aw, Jer, I’ll never get over your little baby crush on me. I can’t believe you couldn’t tell I was a lesbian.”

“Yeaaahhh…” Jeremy goes a little red at that. “Okay, well, at least I don’t have it anymore. But really, I think you might have a chance. You just need to get cooler.” Michael nods and pats Christine’s back.

Christine smiles and looks down at her food. “Thanks, both of you. I appreciate it. But in the meantime, thanks for giving me some company here in Loserville.”

“Christine, it’s an honor to have ya,” Michael says with his usual stunning grin, and Christine beams. This could be okay. It has to be okay, because… there’s no way she’s gonna be any cooler than she already is (which is to say, not very.) No way, no how.

 

A second countdown, an anxious, fuzzy-with-excitement wait until 3:05, a fiddling of hems and adjusting of pins and tapping of feet. The seconds tick like heartbeats as Christine watches, eyes trained on the clock as she sits in her chemistry class, learning about ionic bonds and covalent bonds and hydrogen bonds and James Bonds and 00:00:05, 00:00:04, 00:00:03, 00:00:02, 00:00:01 _yes!_ Christine nearly forgets her backpack in the rush, pushing again through the throng of students and running, running, running across the school and up the stairs and through the lunchroom and to the auditorium. Her legs ache like the devil, but she’s there, finally, and she stands in the aisle with hands on her thighs and pants for probably two minutes straight.

Christine’s just settling into one of the seats in the first row from the stage, as per usual, when the heavy auditorium door opens again. She twists around to see Jeremy and Michael, followed a moment after by Brooke. “Hey, guys!” she calls, and her smile is as wide as can be. “I can’t believe you all signed up for the play this year with me… This is going to be amazing!”

“In my defense, I would have done it either way,” Jeremy says as he takes a seat next to her. “I know I’m not _fantastic_ at acting, but y’know. I like it.”

“You’re a bigger man than I, Jeremy,” Brooke says, and slings an arm around Christine’s shoulders as she sits on her other side. “This stuff really isn’t my thing, but, y’know. Chrissy here was super excited, so.”

“Yeah, we noticed,” Michael says, laughter in his voice. Christine, a little embarrassed, hides behind her scarf. “Anyway… is anyone else coming? Can you even put on a play with four people?”

Christine sighs. “I guess we might just have to make do. Sign-ups for the plays and musicals here have been slipping.” She crosses her legs, right over left and then left over right. “I’ve heard that they might have to cut-”

“Let’s start this party!” The auditorium doors swing open before Christine can finish her sentence, and Jake Dillinger’s voice fills the room. There’s a clamor of noise from the head of the room, and, in a moment, four more familiar faces hop into the seats near Christine: Jake Dillinger, Chloe Valentine, Rich Goranski, and- Christine’s heart skips a beat- Jenna Rolan. Jake brings the excitement, as he always does, and she, Michael, and Jeremy are left in the dust, but all Christine can think about is _oh my God, oh my actual God, she’s actually here at play rehearsal, Jenna Rolan is going to be in the play with me, am I dreaming?_

Brooke leans across Christine to shoo away Michael and Jeremy. Michael scoffs, offended, but before he can say anything, Jeremy tugs on his sleeve and points. To Christine’s delight and mild sense of doom, Brooke calls over to Jenna, “Yo, Jenna! Come sit.”

 _“Good luck,”_ Jeremy mouths to Christine, and she gives him a tense smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. _Oh no, oh no, oh no, she’s here!_ She silently begs Brooke to not have her sit next to her, but Brooke isn’t looking.

Jenna doesn’t seem to have a problem, though, ands its down next to Christine. The wet patch on her flannel is gone, and Christine thanks the lord that she wasn’t drinking soda or a slushie or something like that. “Hey, guys,” she says, and gives that charming smile to Christine before turning her attention to Brooke. Christine’s used to it- after all, as long as Chloe Valentine’s not in the room, everyone’s eyes are drawn to Brooke. Why wouldn’t they be?

“Hey! Oh, Christine, you’ve met Jenna, right?” Brooke asks, and, while she’s a graceful and charismatic person usually, Christine could just die at how hamfisted her wingwoman game is.

“Yeah, I have, actually,” Jenna says, and glances back at Christine. “Gimme some credit, Brooke- I know _everyone.”_

Brooke elbows Christine, and she squeaks loudly. “Brookie!” she hisses, and her cheeks tingle with embarrassment, but when Jenna gives her an odd look, she manages a smile. “Hi, Jenna… sorry again about earlier!” Her voice comes out in sort of a strangled shout, because she’ll be damned if she ever learns volume control.

“Earlier?” Jenna looks puzzled for a second, then shakes her head as she remembers. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It was just water.” There’s a gentle smile on her face that makes Christine go a little weak.

“I-if you say so,” she says, relieved but disbelieving. She’s always too hard on herself about her blunders; she once accidentally called Emily Dickinson “Emily Dickens” and had to leave the restaurant she was at because she was so embarrassed. She’s about to say something about how Jenna’s flannel shirt looks nice when she catches Rich staring at her out of the corner of her eye. _What’s his problem?_ she wonders, perplexed.

Christine’s shaken from her wonder when a loud, booming voice comes from the stage. “Hello, everyone! My name is Mr. Reyes. You may recognize me from drama class or my full-time job at the Hobby Lobby.” Sure enough, Middle Borough’s portly, bearded drama teacher is standing proudly on the stage, and Christine grins- he’s always been her favorite teacher. “I’ve been dreaming of the day I get to stage William Shakespeare’s classic “A Midsummer Night’s Dream-” Christine nearly vibrates out of her skin in excitement- “and today, that dream dies.”

Christine makes a noise akin to a dying cat and cries, “What!?”

“And is reborn!” Mr. Reyes continues. “Just… slightly mutated.” The expression on his face turns somber. “The school has informed me that, unless I increase our popularity, our funds will be diverted… to the frisbee golf team.” Jake Dillinger whoops from the seat behind Christine. “Which is why _our_ production will be set not in a pastoral forest but a post-apocalyptic future. Instead of frolicking with fairies, there will be fleeing… from zombies.”

Christine, horrified, shoots up from her seat and sticks her hand as high in the air as she can. “Don't you care about Shakespeare?”

Mr. Reyes fixes Christine with a sympathetic-bordering-on-pitying look. “The man is dead,” he says, “let it go.” To the rest of the students, he announces, “We will now take a five-minute break so I can eat a Hot Pocket.”

As Mr. Reyes heads backstage again to the side exit, there's another bustle of voices as everyone disperses, heading to the bathroom, most likely, or to their lockers to grab something before they forget. Christine stands up, sighing, and shuffles out of the auditorium and into the hallway. Maybe a walk would help her clear her head. She knows she shouldn't be this upset, but look. Shakespeare is her favorite person on Earth (well, historical person- she loves her friends more, of course, she's not a _monster),_ and now Mr. Reyes was ruining her favorite play by him? It's unthinkable.

“Yo, Christine,” a voice says from behind her, and Christine shrieks a little in surprise. She whips around to see Rich Goranski in all his beefy glory.

“Rich?” she says, and cocks her head to the side, a little bewildered. “What d'you want?”

Rich says nothing, just gestures for Christine to follow him. She does, unsure of why she should, and every alarm bell she has in her head goes off as Rich leads her into one of the empty practice rooms by the choir room. “Don't freak out,” Rich says, noticing her nerves. “Look, I'll make this worth your time. I'm not gonna cop a feel or anything.”

“Then what the heck do you want?” Christine demands, barely soothed.

Rich sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “Okay, I'll cut the bullshit. You have a crush on Jenna, right?”

 _What the heck!?_ Christine repeats internally. “Uh, yeah, I do… What's it to ya?” She musters up her toughest, butchest tone of voice. It doesn't really work.

“You have no idea how to get her,” Rich says, and it's not a question. Christine nods. Rich inhales deeply, looking contemplative, then finally starts to speak again. “Christine… do you remember me freshman year?”

“What're you talking about?” Christine asks, frowning. “You didn't go here freshman year.”

Rich slams his fist on the rickety old piano, making Christine flinch and cover her ears. “I did!” he nearly shouts, voice cracking. A lisp slips into his voice as he says. “You just didn't notice. Nobody did.”

“What does this have to do with-”

“Listen!” Rich commands, and softens a little, giving Christine an apologetic look. “Freshman year… was Hell for me. I was a loser, just like you. I even, uh…” He pauses, takes another deep breath. “I tried to kill myself that spring. But I got help, okay? And now I can help you.”

“You… want me to see a therapist?” Christine asks, skeptical.

Rich shakes his head vigorously. “No way. This shit’s way better than a therapist. It's called a SQUIP.”

Christine perks up a little at that. “It's… a script?”

Rich shakes his head, and Christine returns to her former frowning state. “Not a script. A _SQUIP._ ”

“I've never heard of it,” Christine says. That's not saying much, though; she's chronically out of the loop.

“Yeah, that's the _point,”_ Rich says. “This is some top-secret, can't-even-look-it-up-on-the-internet shit.” He leans in, looking directly into Christine's eyes; Christine looks away anxiously. “It's from Japan,” he explains. “It's this pill, right? And there's like… a quantum nanotechnology CPU thing in it. Like, a little computer. And when you take it, it travels through your bloodstream to your brain and implants there, and then it tells you what to do. Cool, huh?”

Christine shivers at the thought. _Sounds creepy._ “That's… not even possible,” she says, although she's not quite sure with the way technology has been advancing lately.

Christine squeals in surprise and fear as Rich pushes her against the wall. “Shut up, lesbo!” he growls, before freezing and squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry… I'm sorry,” he says, backing up as Christine stares at him, wide-eyed with fright. “Force of habit. I'm sorry for treating you like human garbage all the time.” He sounds… surprisingly sincere. “It’s just what my SQUIP was telling me to do. It said that if I bullied you, I would get ahead, that people wouldn't bully _me_ as much. And it worked! But now it says… you're not a bad kid. And that you might want a SQUIP of your own.”

“I don't know,” Christine mumbles. “I mean, I don't think I need drugs or medication to tell me how to live…”

Rich chuckles. “Oh, it's better than drugs, Christine.” He spreads his arms in a grand gesture of amazement. “It's pre-programmed! It's amazing! Seriously, it knows everything. It'll talk to you and tell you how to be cool. I got mine the summer before sophomore year, and I got a girlfriend within a month.”

“A girlfriend,” Christine echoes. She's straight edge, and the only pills she ever takes are painkillers and Adderall, but if this can help her get Jenna… it's tempting. It's hard, the loneliness that comes sometimes. It's part of the lesbian experience.

“Hell _yeah,_ a girlfriend,” Rich says smugly. “I got a hookup at Payless Shoes at the Menlo Park Mall. It's six hundred.”

Christine's heart drops to her stomach. “S-six hundred _dollars!?”_

“It's worth it,” Rich promises. “Bring the money on Monday. You'll see.” He checks his watch, then claps Christine on the shoulder and heads out of the room. “C’mon- you don't wanna be late; you're Mr. Reyes’ favorite student.”

“Right,” Christine murmurs, then jumps to attention. “Oh, shoot, right!” Back to play rehearsal. What's she even supposed to do? Take some pill? She doesn't want to be cool, but- Christine reaches the auditorium doors and pulls them open, and there's Jenna Rolan.

She might need to make a decision.

 

_[7:09] Jeremy H.: that would be so cool!!! if  it works u gotta tell me! ive  been hangin onto my bar mitzvah money for 3.5 yrs for something like this. i  mean not Specifically this but ykwim_

_[7:12] Brooke L.: oh man if you got popular that’d be great! you could hang out with me and chlo and the rest!_

_[7:20] Michael M.: i dunno, christine. do you really want some robot computer thing to tell you what to do?_

 

Christine stares down at the three messages in her inbox. After dinner, she’d finally decided to talk to her friends about the SQUIP, relating what Rich had told her to each of them. She’s always found it hard to make decisions without advice- that’s why she loves acting so much; she’s always equipped with a script and stage directions, so she never has to make the decision for herself. Still, even with their input, she doesn’t really know what to do. It has to be a scam, right? Why should Rich help her out? But he seemed really genuine. And since the majority rules…

_[7:45] Christine C.: sorry michael… brookie and jer got back to me and they said i should do it so i think it’s kind of a two against one kinda thing_

_[7:48] Michael M.: i cant stop you, but look, chrissy, you’re already cool._

_[7:50] Michael M.: you’re the best actress and the best singer i know, and butches are pretty much the coolest people on earth._

Christine grins at that. She trusts Michael and values his opinion dearly, but… it’s still not enough. She realizes, then, that she’s made up her mind: She wants to be cool. She wants to be… normal. Christine sighs, then types out:

_[7:52] Christine C.: awwww thanks mike! but i think im gonna at least check it out? tomorrow after practice i might stop by payless and see if theyre even real_

_[7:54] Michael M.: well… be safe?_

_[7:55] Christine C.: will do. thanks michael!_

‘Be safe’... is this endangering her? _It can’t be,_ Christine thinks. _Rich wouldn’t recommend it if it was. Except…_ All the times Rich had tripped Christine, called her a dyke, made fun of her style… maybe he would. Still, she can’t let herself miss out on an opportunity like that. She just can’t.

_[7:58] Christine C.: yeah! I decided im gonna check it out tomorrow after practice… ill let you know how it works out._

_[8:00] Jeremy H.: cool, thanks! good luck chris!!!!!!!_

‘Good luck’- now that’s less worrying.

_[8:02] Christine C.: okay well i think im gonna see if it’s legit! sorry , i wont be able to hang out after rehearsal tomorrow._

_[8:04] Brooke L.: no problem! this is gonna be awesome! hopefully!_

“Yeah, hopefully,” Christine sighs, and tucks her phone under her pillow. She wants tomorrow to come as soon as possible- like ripping off a Band-Aid- and so, willing herself to be tired, she tries to fall asleep early.

 

“Well, here we are,” Christine murmurs to nobody in particular, “Payless ShoeSource.” She stares up at the orange logo, antsily tapping one foot on the shining linoleum. After a few moments, she steels herself and walks inside. “Um… hello?” she calls, looking for the shadiest staff member she can find.

He finds her, in the end- hood up, sunglasses on, the man is shady enough for Christine to wonder how he even got a job here. _Maybe he killed one of the employees and now he’s wearing his uniform,_ she thinks to herself. _Oh, my God, maybe he did!_ Before her thoughts can get to her, though, the man says, “Let’s see the money.”

“H-how’d you know that’s what I’m here for?” Christine asks defensively. “I could just be shoe shopping.”

The man looks Christine up and down, scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes. “Just the look of ya,” he says. “I know the type.”

Christine shrugs. The man’s got a point. “Well… okay.” She grabs the wad of money from her jean pocket- she never spends her allowance, so she’s racked it up over the years- and hands it out.

“Is this four hundred?” the stockman asks.

“I thought it was six hundred,” Christine says, cocking her head to the left in confusion.

The stockman snatches the bills from Christine’s hand and says, smirking, “I’ll take six hundred.” Before Christine can protest, he pulls out a box, emblazoned with the Nike logo, from the backpack he’s wearing.

Christine frowns. “...Lady’s footwear? Sorry, I usually wear-”

And then the stockman opens the box. Inside is a grey oblong pill, resting unimpressively against the cardboard wall. Christine picks it up with a thumb and a forefinger and peers at it. “Just so we’re clear,” the man says, “this is untested technology… and it’s not exactly legal. ...Which is why you’re paying for it with cash in the back of a shoe store.” Christine gives him a _yeah, fair_ shrug. “I take no responsibility for what you might do with it, or what it might do with you.”

Michael’s _be safe_ echoes in Christine’s head as she asks, “...What might it do-”

“To activate it,” the man continues, cutting her off, “take it with Mountain Dew. I don’t know why, there’s just something about Mountain Dew. And, this is important-”

“Hello?” And there’s that beautiful, low voice, Jenna Rolan of all people coming here, to the Payless, and Christine feels a pang of _need_ for the SQUIP, for something to get her to Jenna.

“We’re out!” the stockman barks, and Jenna frowns.

“Of shoes?” she asks.

“...Oh. You’re here for shoes. My bad.” The stockman turns to Christine and says, “Alright, get outta here, kid. I’ve got customers.”

“You were telling me something important,” Christine reminds him, twisting one of the pins on her jacket in anxiety.

“Oh, yeah. All sales final.” And with that, the creepy stockman is off, guiding Jenna somewhere away, away, away from Christine. She needs this pill.

 

Christine’s six hundred dollars down- six hundred and one if she’s counting the buck she fed to the machine for a Mountain Dew- and feeling more nervous than she’s felt in… well, ever. Okay, maybe not that, because a lot of things are nerve-racking like noisy places and when people talk for too long without letting her speak, but in terms of Big Bad Situations That She’s Worried About… the SQUIP takes the cake. She’s seated at a table in the food court, staring down at the pill she’s set next to the unopened soda bottle.

She can’t keep putting it off. She’s got to do it now. And what great timing, because Jenna is already at the mall, so she can just… talk to her and… _Get a girlfriend within the month,_ Rich’s words echo in her mind, and Christine scoops up the pill and downs it with the sick-sweet swill, and… nothing. There really is absolutely nothing. “What is this?” she mutters, frustrated. “I should feel something. I have to feel something, right?”

But that’s all there is. Just… nothing, as if she’d taken a sugar pill. Maybe it was just that. Maybe the scary stockman is Rich’s brother or something… no, he’s too tall. Maybe they’re friends. Somehow Rich scammed her… She sighs. Okay, well, that freakin’ sucks, but what can she do? ...Maybe go to Cinnabon. Christine takes another sip from her Mountain Dew before coming to the conclusion that she doesn’t really like it, and drops it in one of the various garbage cans when she gets up.

There’s a Cinnabon right in the food court, but right now Christine just needs to go on a walk. She knows this mall pretty well, and so she knows that there’s one on the opposite end of the floor. Sticking her hands in her pockets, Christine walks leaves the food court and starts for the other Cinnabon, trying to stay positive. Maybe the stockman needed that money to feed his wife and kids! ...She really hopes he doesn’t have kids. Maybe he’s saving up for a home. Well, that’d be nice; homelessness is a huge issue and it can and should be eliminated peacefully, because there are way more than enough houses to house every homeless person in the US. But maybe he’s saving up for a gun! Jeez!

She hardly notices at first, but as Christine heads for the Cinnabon, Jenna’s just leaving the Payless. Christine’s eyes are trained on the ground until she notices Jenna’s purple converse and freezes. Should she say something? Maybe she should. Maybe the SQUIP is on and she just doesn’t know it. _Shoot, she’s getting closer!_ Christine makes up her mind: she’s going to tell her, right here, right now. She straightens up, looks at Jenna as she passes, opens her mouth, and-

_Target female inaccessible._

\- and the world is lit on fire.

It’s pain like Christine has never felt before. Every inch of her, every nerve ending in her body is screaming in pain. She is, too, shrieking high-pitched as she falls to the cold, unforgiving linoleum. It feels like someone stuck a red-hot fire poker into every orifice of her body. All the while, a familiar, yet strangely robotic voice echoes in her head: _Calibration in progress. Please excuse some mild discomfort._

 _“Mild!?”_ Christine screeches, squeezing her eyes shut in pain and terror and pressing her hands to her ears. She flops like a suffocating fish on the floor, convulsing and screaming and looking like an idiot is the furthest thing from her mind right now, but she probably does, and there’s that voice again, _Calibration complete, access procedure initiated,_ and the pain eases for a moment and Christine opens her blurry eyes and then it’s there again, shocking, burning, flaying her alive.

_Accessing: neural memory. Accessing: muscle memory. Access procedure: complete. Christine Canigula…_

_Welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor._

_Your SQUIP._


	2. The SQUIP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for more lesbophobia, specifically butchphobia? I guess. Also general SQUIP-related TWs.

Christine picks herself up off the ground, eventually. The pain had vanished instantly, as if it was never there… did she imagine it? Did she have some sort of tactile hallucination and shriek and convulse on the floor right in front of her crush? Oh man. Right in front of her crush. She raises her eyes, hesitantly, and Jenna’s still there, phone in one hand, filming the whole thing, because she’s Jenna Rolan and, while Christine is head over heels for her, yeah, she’s a gossip.

“Um… are you okay?” Jenna asks, and taps the bottom of her phone’s screen to end the recording.

“I… I guess?” Christine says, voice raw. She rubs it tenderly, and flinches when she swallows. “I-”

_You need to retreat._

Christine pauses. “...What?”

“What, what?” Jenna asks, frowning in confusion.

“No, not you, I- who are you?” Christine looks from side to side, but, while there’s a small crowd, none of them are the middle aged woman whose voice she’d just heard. “...Who was just talking to me?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Jenna says. “Are you sure you’re okay, Christine?”

_Get out of the limelight. Go to one of the bathrooms. I’ll contact you further there._

Ignoring Jenna’s question for the voice in her head, Christine murmurs, “Okay, okay, I’m… I’m going.”

Jenna blinks, then shakes her head and looks down at her phone again as she keeps walking. “Alright, well, I guess you’re okay.”

Normally Christine would be all ears, thrilled that Jenna is even talking to her, but right now the only thing on her mind is… well, the voice in it. She practically drags herself along, zombie-like, to the nearest bathroom, feeling as if she hardly even exists. Christine locks herself in a stall, and, unsure of what else to do, sits down on one of the grimy toilets. It feels pretty terrible to sit on one of them while wearing pants completely, but whatever. “...Okay?” she says, expectantly. And then there’s someone in front of her. Two-dimensional, a little staticky at the edges, colored in electric blues, but there’s definitely someone there. Christine stares, because what else is there to do? “...Hillary Clinton?”

 _...No,_ the figure says, _I’m your SQUIP. This is my default mode. You can also set me for: Barbra Streisand. Patti LuPone. Sexy Anime Male._ The SQUIP’s hologram- for lack of a better term- shimmers and twists as it speaks, and Christine can’t help but grimace when she sees what it has in store for the “sexy” anime male. Well, at least it didn’t have nipples.

“I don’t even… _like_ men,” Christine says, and scratches her arm.

The SQUIP flickers back to its original Hillary form, then looks her up and down and says, _Well, that explains a lot._

Christine shrugs. Well, that’s half the reason she dresses this way, anyway. “...So, can other people see you? Or hear you?” she asks.

The SQUIP shakes its head. _I exist only in your mind. So, you sound like you’re having a very confused, very homosexual conversation with yourself in a bathroom stall. Not a good look. Just think at me, like you’re telepathic._

 _Like this?_ Christine say-speaks, and the SQUIP nods.

 _Just like that,_ it confirms. _Now, Christine Canigula, what assistance do you require of me?_

Christine thinks on that for a second. Now that she knows how advanced the SQUIP is, there’s thousands of things she could think of it to do for her. It could help her memorize her lines, it could help her with her math homework… But for now, priorities. _Well… there’s this girl,_ she says. _Jenna. I think if I was more, y’know… normal… that maybe I’d have a chance with her._

 _Ah, yes, Jenna Rolan,_ the SQUIP says. _She’s in many of your memories from the past couple years. And that’s the girl you’ve set your sights on?_

 _Absolutely,_ Christine says, and smiles, lovestruck. _She’s, like, insanely gorgeous._

 _I’ve been trained on conventionally attractive women,_ the SQUIP points out. _Objectively, she is not._

Christine frowns. _Oh, shut it. She’s the one that I want-_ oh, great, now that song’s going to be stuck in her head for the next three days, ooh ooh ooh- _so… y’know, if you could help me win her heart…_

 _My wish is your demand, Christine,_ the SQUIP says. _But we have a lot of work to do here. Jenna Rolan is quite a popular girl, correct?_

Christine nods and says, _Yeah… she provides all the school gossip, so she’s managed to get pretty high up there even though we’re kinda similar._ Of course, there’s the race and ability thing, too, which she’s bitter about, but then again… she doesn’t even really want to be popular. Just… normal.

 _If you want to seduce Jenna,_ the SQUIP says sternly, _you’re going to have to be more chill._

 _More… chill?_ Christine repeats. _You mean, cool?_

 _No,_ the SQUIP says flatly, _be more chill. You see, human activity is governed by rules, and I have the processing capacity to understand those rules and pass them onto you. Now, Christine, I need you to buy a new shirt. No… a whole new ensemble._

Christine looks down at her shirt- a plain white button-down, tucked neatly into her jeans. _...What’s wrong with my clothes?_

 _I’ll explain on the way,_ the SQUIP says. _For now, just listen and obey._

_You rhymed!_

_I didn’t mean to._

Christine stands up from the toilet, unlocks the door, and leaves the bathroom- there’s only one other person in there, thankfully, although she does give her a scornful look as she walks out. _What’s she looking at me like that for?_ she asks the SQUIP.

 _She thought you went to the bathroom without washing your hands,_ it answers, trailing after her.

_Oh. ...Should I wash them even though I didn’t, um, go?_

_She’s just one person. She’ll never see you again. Keep moving._ Christine follows the SQUIP’s commands and keeps walking down the hall she had been before, looking from side to side for a shop that satisfied the SQUIP. Eventually, she comes across a Forever 21, and the SQUIP says, _Here! Stop here. I envision a future in which you shop at this Forever 21 and things turn out well._

Christine doesn’t protest- this is where she usually shops with Brooke, after all- but she does ask, _How do you know? Are you psychic?_

 _My quantum structure enables me to envision possible futures,_ the SQUIP explains. _Now, pick out a shirt._

Christine turns towards the men’s section and takes a step forward, but in a moment, there’s a white-hot flash of pain cascading down her spine and burning in the small of her back. “Ow, what!?” she hisses. _Was that you?_

 _Yes,_ the SQUIP answers. _Spinal stimulation. From now on, you won’t be shopping in the men’s section. Jenna is a butch, correct?_  Christine nods.  _Then you need to be her femme- it's the natural order of things, according to the information in my database. I know all about lesbian history,_ the SQUIP says.  _This is the easiest way to teach you. Think of it as developing a pavlovian response._

 _A pavlovian response to dressing the way I like?_ Christine says. _Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?_

_Cruel, perhaps, but necessary. Now, go to the women’s section._

Afraid to disobey, Christine does so, anxiety growing in her with every step. She wouldn’t use the term dysphoria, exactly, but dressing in skirts and dresses and stuff makes her feel… icky. Still, she does it, and eventually becomes lost in the rows of fancy skirts and cutesy tank tops. From one of the racks, she grabs a lacy, spring green top and holds it to her torso to check the size. _Is… this good?_

The SQUIP shakes its head. _That shade of green isn’t your color. Try something yellow or light blue._

Christine rounds a corner and nearly runs into, surprise surprise, Brooke and Chloe. Chloe grunts- prettily, somehow- and flinches back, gripping her bag tighter. “Christine!” Brooke says, grinning as she hugs a frozen Christine. “Wait… why’re you buying girls’ clothes? You refuse to even look at this side.”

“Oh, uh, y’know.” Feeling the pressure from Chloe’s gaze, Christine resorts to tapping her forehead and giving a weak smile. Brooke gasps and makes a _Call me!_ gesture, making a phone out of her pinkie and thumb.

“Ooookay,” Chloe says, narrowing her eyes at the two of them. “Well, anyway, it’s a relief to see you actually shopping for the right clothes, Canigula.”

Christine huffs, offended, but the SQUIP soothes her. _Don’t worry. She won’t act this sour to you for long,_ it says. _I’ll help you fit right in._

 _But I don’t even_ like _Chloe,_ Christine protests internally. _I don’t really want to be her friend. What about Jenna?_

 _Is Jenna close with Chloe?_ The SQUIP asks, and Christine thinks an affirmative vibe at her, or tries to, at least. It works. _Then consider her a stepping stone to get to Jenna. You become friends with Chloe, soon enough you’ll be friends with Jenna. Now, repeat after me: Thanks, Chloe!_

“Thanks, Chloe!”

_You know, I’ve been hoping-_

“You know, I’ve been hoping-”

_that you and Brooke-_

“that you and Brooke-”

_could help me shop for girls’ clothes._

“could help me shop for girls’ clothes.”

_You’re really fashionable, Chloe._

“You’re _really_ fashionable, Chloe. I love that skirt.”

_Good one._

“Oh, thanks, Christine,” Chloe says, brightening up, and twists from side to side to show off the pleated skirt. “If you want to spruce up your style, you asked the best girls for the job.”

Christine smiles stiffly. “Well… that’s great! I haven’t dressed in girl’s clothes since middle school, so… I’m kinda lost, y’know?”

“Oh, we’ll work on that,” Chloe says, and smirks. Brooke frowns, looking a little concerned, but Christine knows her well enough that she knows she wouldn’t stand up to Chloe. These things happen. Before Christine can protest, Chloe grabs her arm and drags her over towards the front of the store. “Let’s start from the start. Now, Christine, I think you’d look good in… a light blue, or a yellow.”

_This girl’s smart._

Within a half hour, Chloe’s got clothes stacked in Christine’s arms- dresses, tees, skirts, cardigans, et al. They’re cute, Christine will admit that, but… they’re just not _her._ Still, if the SQUIP thinks it’ll get her to Jenna… maybe she can try it out.

“You… want me to wait with you while you try on your clothes?” Brooke asks, voice soft.

 _Should I say yes?_ Christine asks the SQUIP.

 _No- Chloe might think it’s weird,_ it answers. _Most people can try on clothes by themselves. Plus, this way she can go on shopping with Brooke by herself._

“Nah, I’m good,” Christine says to Brooke. “I’ll catch you two in a minute.” As the SQUIP predicted, Chloe smiles at Brooke and walks with her through the aisles, presumably looking for clothes of her own now. Christine finds a changing room and locks herself in it, staring at the door for a long while. _...Hey, SQUIP?_

_Yes, Christine?_

_I don’t want to wear these._

_Too bad,_ the SQUIP says simply.

Christine sighs. _Fine, will you at least give me some privacy then?_

 _I can’t do that,_ the SQUIP says, _but I can turn off visuals and be quiet, if you’d like._

 _That works, I guess,_ Christine says, and the holograph flickers and disappears. God, if it were anyone else, she might be _marginally_ okay, but she’s pretty sure she’d drop dead if (hopefully) future POTUS Hillary Clinton watched her change. She cringes at the thought. “Here goes nothing,” she murmurs, and takes a dress from the pile of clothes. It’s a maxi dress, light blue with narrow white stripes, and… well, at least the texture is nice. There’s no annoying tags or anything. Putting her hands on her hips, Christine looks in the mirror, hating the reflection.

_It flatters your body shape. Keep it._

_I thought you said you wouldn’t look!_ Christine yelps in her head, and covers her chest with her arms.

 _I figured you would need help figuring which ones to keep,_ the SQUIP explains. _I’ll keep my visuals off, if that’s what you want._

 _That helps a little,_ Christine says, and sighs. Burning with embarrassment, she takes the dress off and puts it on one of the hooks on the wall, then grabs a tank top from the pile.

Almost as soon as Christine puts it on, the SQUIP says, _Not that one. It makes your muscles stand out too much._

 _My muscles aren’t even that big,_ Christine says, flexing in the mirror. Sure, they’re a little bigger than most girls’, but not by any wide margin. She just plays around with her brother’s weights when she has too much energy.

 _They’re big enough. People don’t like muscular girls._ The SQUIP sighs. _Like I said… we have a lot of work to do._

In the end, most of the clothes fit her well- according to the SQUIP, anyway- and Christine walks out of the changing room with the maxi dress, a few short skirts, a crop top, a couple pairs of shoes, and a simple tee. “Brooke, Chloe,” she calls to the other girls, “I’m done!”

 _Shh. Don’t make a scene,_ the SQUIP says, _just walk over to them._

Christine stops, chest seizing with anxiety. Don’t make a scene. Don’t make a scene. She _hates_ that phrase, _fears_ it, because she doesn’t _mean_ to make a scene, it just happens, and she doesn’t know how to _not_ do it, shut up-

_Christine. Calm down._

_Don’t say that, then,_ Christine says, hoping and praying that the SQUIP will listen. _Don’t tell me to not make a scene._

 _Fine. I’ll use a different phrase next time,_ the SQUIP says, and Christine breathes a sigh of relief. _But get going._

 _Right. Right._ Christine scopes out Brooke and Chloe and walks over- _Walk confidently,_ the SQUIP tells her, _put some swagger in your gait-_ to greet them _._ “Hey, guys,” she says, smiling. “Most of the stuff fit pretty well.”

“That’s great!” Brooke says, smiling that fond smile that she seems to only have for Christine. “Chloe’s good at picking out clothes.”

“There’s a reason I’m applying to FIT next year.” Chloe grins. “Is everyone ready to pay up and leave?”

“Are… we leaving together?” Christine asks, tilting her head.

Chloe looks at her like she’s an idiot. (She might be, in some ways, but socialization doesn’t come easy to everyone, so sue her.) “Uh, _yeah,”_ she says, as if it’s obvious. “Unless you didn’t want to.”

“O-of course I do!” Christine blurts. “It’s just, like, I’ve never really hung out with a girl like you before, except Brooke, and that’s… different.”

“Well, y’know, maybe you can be kinda cool sometimes,” Chloe says, and Brooke nods enthusiastically. “Now, c’mon. Do you want a ride, Christine?”

 _Yes,_ the SQUIP urges her.

“...Yeah,” Christine says, and hugs the pile of clothes to her chests for a second, a doe in the headlights, even when everything’s going right. “That’d be, uh, nice.” It doesn’t help that Chloe is, objectively, the hottest girl in school. Useless lesbian mode: on.

_You stammer too much._

_Yeah, probably._

_Not probably. Definitely._

“Chrissy, don’t worry, I’ll pay for your clothes,” Brooke says. “I know you just spent a ton on… y’know.” She nudges Christine, trying and failing to be subtle.

“...What, did you buy crack or something?” Chloe asks, eyeing Christine suspiciously.

“No! Nononono,” Christine says, flapping her- Huh? _Why can’t I move my hands?_ Christine asks the SQUIP.

 _I have the capability to override your motor control,_ the SQUIP explains. _None of that… hand flapping._

 _...Stimming,_ Christine says. _It’s called stimming._

_Right. Don’t do that._

Chloe snorts. “Well, you’re sure acting weird, Canigula. I take it back- if you’re on drugs, keep it out of my mom’s car.”

“I’m not on drugs, I promise,” Christine assures her, and sighs. “I just… bought a new computer, so. That took a ton out of my savings. And… I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Neither are lies… technically.

Chloe’s still not completely convinced, if her expression is any indicator, but she seems content with that. “Well, I trust Brooke’s choice in friends, so. C’mon. Let’s pay up.”

“Right! Right,” Christine says, and smiles. _It’s working! Oh my gosh, it’s working! I’m hanging out with Chloe Valentine!_

Thanks to Brooke, the three of them are in and out in a matter of minutes, and they’re halfway to the mall’s exit when Brooke nudges Chloe with one elbow. “Hey, we should stop for frozen yogurt,” she says, and gestures to the Pinkberry they’re about to pass. “It’s not that late, is it?”

“How about it, Christine?” Chloe asks, turning back to her. “You ever been to Pinkberry?”

“I’m not _that_ out of the loop,” Christine protests. “...But I wouldn’t say no to going there again.”

“That’s what i like to hear,” Chloe says, and grabs Christine’s arm. “C’mon, Brooke. Still a coconut milk salted caramel with shortbread cookies and honey?”

“Always!” Brooke chirps, and trails after them.

Leaving Brooke to hold down a table for them, Chloe drags Christine up to the counter to order. “Could I get a medium raspberry white chocolate with raspberries and brownie bites?” she says, and the girl behind the plastic barrier nods, turning to the machines behind her to pull a containerful of frozen yogurt.

After Chloe gives the other girl behind the counter Brooke’s order, Chloe asks, “So, Christine. Do you shop at Forever 21 often?”

“Not really,” Christine answers, but before she can say more, the first employee gives her an expectant look, having finished Chloe’s order. “Uh, small mint chocolate cookie with dark chocolate crisps and chocolate sauce?”

“Yeah, I figured,” Chloe says, eyeing Christine’s outfit up and down.

Christine brushes off the implied insult, not wanting to make a scene, and steps over to the cash register to wait. “Yeah, usually I shop at that thrift store, y’know, near the Target?” At Chloe’s reprehending look, she defends herself with, “Hey, there’s some cool stuff there. Y’know, vintage jackets and stuff.” She tugs at her jean jacket. “I looked at the brand name and stuff, and this jacket is from the 80s or something.”

“Hm,” Chloe says simply, although she does look slightly impressed.

 _I’m getting through to her!_ Christine thinks with delight, and the SQUIP simply nods, a smug look on its face. When the cashier gives the price of the three froyos, Christine makes a move to grab her wallet from her pocket, but the SQUIP stops her. _What is it?_ she asks.

 _Don’t offer to pay,_ the SQUIP says. _She’s… quite homophobic. She might think you’re doing it because you have a crush on her._

Christine puts her wallet back in her pocket, thankfully not grabbing Chloe’s attention as she does. _Yeah, you’re probably right. Straight girls are like that a lot._

Chloe ends up paying for their snacks- “Just give me the cash tomorrow, alright?” she tells her, as if Christine didn’t _just_ spend all her money on an edible supercomputer. She’ll have to borrow some from Brooke… again. She nods anyway.

When the two of them reach the table, Brooke greets them with a smile and a _thanks!,_ taking her bowl from Chloe. “What were you guys talking about up there?” she asks Christine.

“Oh, y’know. The shops Christine shops at,” Chloe answers for her. “While I prefer the stuff we picked out for you tonight… that jean jacket from the 80s is kinda cool.”

“Right?” Brooke says, after taking a bite of her frozen yogurt. “I was, like, so jealous when she found it, but we’re not the same size, so. Y’know.”

Chloe just hums in response, bored by Brooke, apparently. She goes on to talk about something else, but before Christine can catch what it is, the SQUIP speaks up in her head.

_News flash: the singer Taylor Swift has just been declared dead following a freak softball accident._

_What?_ Christine asks, and can’t keep a frown off her face. Chloe, hardly even paying attention, doesn’t notice, but Brooke looks slightly concerned.

_Taylor Swift has died. Use it in conversation._

_But how do you know she’s dead?_ Christine says, and she’s lucky that Chloe will fill the gaps in any conversation.

 _The information exists,_ the SQUIP explains, _therefore I am able to detect it. I’m a supercomputer, Christine- don’t underestimate me._

 _Fair enough,_ Christine says. “Wait, wait, guys,” she says, aloud this time, butting into the conversation. The annoyance that appears on Chloe’s face turns to horror when Christine says, “Taylor Swift just died.”

 _“What!?”_ Chloe gasps, scandalized. “No, she can’t be! Hey, where are you even hearing this?” She and Brooke each whip out their phone, and soon, Brooke is looking up at Christine and frowning.

“There’s nothing on Twitter about it,” she says. “Is this a prank? That’s mean of you, Chrissy.”

Christine blinks, and, to the SQUIP, asks, _Well,_ is _it a prank? You’re not lying to me, are you?_

 _Of course not,_ the SQUIP says. _It just hasn’t reached the media yet. Give it an hour._

“Just… trust me,” Christine says. “It’ll be everywhere soon.”

Chloe sticks her tongue out a little at that before taking another bite of her frozen yogurt. After swallowing, she says, “Well, we’ll find out on the radio on the ride home, no doubt. Let’s see if your story checks out.”

The nervous energy twists in the pit Christine’s stomach, and she can barely bring herself to eat the frozen yogurt that Chloe-slash-her-slash-Brooke bought for her, but she eventually does, letting Chloe and Brooke carry on some conversation or another after they’re finished. It’s probably best to be quiet in the beginning anyway, until she gets to be cooler- no, _more chill,_ like the SQUIP said. “Hey, I’m ready to go when you guys are,” she says, tapping on Brooke’s shoulder when there’s a lull in the conversation.

“Finally,” Chloe says, though there’s less and less malice behind it.

Christine can’t stop thinking it to herself: _Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m actually for real talking to hot popular girls that aren’t Brooke!_ The entire way to the parking lot, she’s getting more and more excited- especially now that the SQUIP isn’t keeping her on as tight a leash. No shocks beyond that first one, and it’s not monitoring her motor functions as closely, although she does sometimes find her hands paralyzed by her sides. Its blue, staticy image still makes itself apparent out of the corner of her eye, and it makes a quip or two, or occasionally gives advice, but overall, she seems to be doing pretty well on her own. Being best friends with Brooke seems to help.

Chloe’s (mother’s) car is a black Toyota Corolla, which doesn’t quite match her aesthetic, but oh well. Cars usually don’t. Brooke rides shotgun, of course, and changes the audio source from Bluetooth to radio, switching the station to 95.1 WAYV, home of the same three top 40 songs over and over and over again. A couple songs play, which Chloe and Brooke jam out to, although Christine’s always been a fan of- when she’s not binge listening to musical soundtracks- more… light electro? Maybe it could be described as that. ...Not to sound like a hipster or anything. This stuff is fine. And then…

 _“We’re sorry to interrupt the music,”_ the radio host says, _“but we’ve just heard terrible news about everyone’s favorite bad blonde, Taylor Swift.”_

“Oh my God,” Chloe murmurs. “Christine, you were right about this!?”

 _“T Swizzle was confirmed dead from a freak softball accident,”_ the host continues somberly. _“The ball hit her right in the nose and somehow pushed the bone into her brain. Don’t worry, everyone; it was probably almost painless.”_

Brooke gasps. “Holy shit,” she says. “I- she’s dead!? Are you a psychic or something, Chris?”

“Not a psychic,” Christine answers. “Just in the loop.”

Chloe makes a choked noise and slows down- thankfully, there are no other cars on the road near them at this time of night. “Sorry, my eyes are… ugh, fuck, I’m crying.” She sniffles, takes one hand off the wheel to wipe at her eyes.

“Chlo, you shouldn’t drive while you’re crying,” Brooke says, leaning over and reaching out a tentative hand. “Maybe you should pull over or something. You won’t be able to see.” Christine nods, concern tightening in her chest.

“Ugh, _fine,”_ Chloe says, and pulls the car onto the side of the road; Christine nearly has the breath knocked out of her when she slams on the break and puts it in park. “I just can’t believe she’s _dead,”_ she finally whimpers. “Love Story was, like, the anthem of my middle school years.”

Brooke places a hand over Chloe’s, still white-knuckled on the wheel. “You heard her- it probably didn’t hurt. Much.” Her voice is soft, comforting, very… Brooke.

“That doesn’t help!” Chloe snaps. “...Okay, it helps a little.”

 _Should I say something?_ Christine asks the SQUIP. _I feel like I should say something._

The SQUIP, who’d deactivated its visuals, says, _Tell her that it’s okay. She’s in a better place now. Make sure to touch her shoulder. Now that you’re more familiar, she’ll trust you more._

Christine nods- although she really doesn’t need to- and reaches out to touch Chloe’s shoulder gently. “It’s okay,” she says gently, repeating the SQUIP’s words. “She’s in a better place now.”

Chloe sniffles, wipes at her eyes again, and mumbles, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She finally lets go of the steering wheel. With a sigh, she says, “I need a drink.” Christine’s about to tell her that her parents don’t watch their liquor cabinet very closely in the ballsiest move of the night, but before she can, Chloe opens her purse and takes out a flask. Brooke isn’t fazed.

“You… keep alcohol on you?” Christine asks. _Is that a… normal thing for cool people to do?_

 _...Not particularly,_ the SQUIP says, with a mildly judgemental tone. _This girl may have issues._

Chloe shrugs. “You never know when one of your favorite singers is going to die,” she says, voice guttural from crying. “...Let’s go on the roof.”

Christine blinks, but eventually follows Chloe and Brooke’s lead as the two of them get out of the car. Careful not to let her pristine, white shoes make scuff marks on the car, Chloe climbs up from the hood onto the roof, and Brooke and Christine follow suit. If she messed up Chloe’s car, it’d probably be social suicide, or at least worthy of a typical Chloe chastising.

The stars are out above them, urged on earlier and earlier in the evening by the autumn; by 8:56, they’re are shining brightly in the dark sky. Christine, as always, is comforted by them, lulled by their eternal heavenly presence. It’s not as if she’s not sad at all about Taylor’s passing- she has fond memories of jamming to some of her songs during middle school.

Chloe takes a swig from her flask and grimaces. “Fireball sucks without a mixer,” she mutters. “Shoulda bought some Fanta.” Brooke and Christine share a vaguely concerned look.

“...The stars are pretty,” Brooke eventually says, echoing what Christine’s been thinking.

Chloe- having downed half the flask by the time Brooke had spoken up- hiccups and says, “They sure as shit are, Lohst.”

Christine can’t keep back a laugh at that, and soon all three of them are laughing, and Chloe’s still crying a little but it’s nice, just sitting here under the glimmering night sky, not talking about anything, just hangin’ out. For once, Christine doesn’t feel the need to fill any silences. The SQUIP, blessedly, doesn’t speak up for a long time, leaving her alone in the company of her friends. This isn’t so bad after all.

By the time Brooke drops Christine off at her house- she’d refused to let Chloe get back in the driver’s seat, just in case- it’s nearing 10P.M. If it were any other family, Christine might have gotten in trouble, but when you’re right in the middle of five kids, your parents usually don’t notice when you’re there and when you’re gone. Christine is quiet as she enters the house, and, given that it’s around the time she normally goes to bed anyway, pads upstairs to her room.

As she sets her bag from Forever 21 in her side of the closet, the SQUIP speaks up again. _Get some rest, Christine,_ it says. _You’ve got a big day tomorrow._

Christine nods, yawning. _I’m way ahead of you._

_That’s statistically improbable._

_So much sass,_ Christine says, and rolls her eyes. She’s too tired to get out of her clothes and into pajamas; in fact, she’s out like a light almost as soon as her head hits the pillow. Moments before Christine slips into unconsciousness, she hears a quiet voice in her head:

_Goodnight, Christine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know this before seeing it on their site while picking out orders, but there's actually no Pinkberries in NJ, so Brooke was fully planning on going into a different state just to get some froyo before boning down on Jeremy. I cut some corners.


	3. New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I want to say thank you for all the wonderful feedback, I really appreciate it and I'm glad people are enjoying this fic. There's one thing I do want to say though:  
> The issue with the SQUIP forcing Christine to take a femme role isn't forced heterosexuality. There's nothing that emulates heterosexuality in a butch/femme relationship. The issue here is that whoever programmed the SQUIP hasn't caught up to the fact that the butch/femme framework is no longer necessarily the norm- there are plenty of people who are femme4femme or butch4butch. A lot of this is because there's not as big a need for a couple to be butch/femme to function in this more progressive world for financial and safety reasons. But either way, butch/femme couples have nothing in common with heterosexual couples. Just wanted to clear some things up.

_ Christine. Wake up. _

Christine blinks awake, opening her eyes into a still-dark room. There’s nothing like a voice in your head to shake the sleep off of you. Hang on- still dark?  _ Why’d you wake me up so early?  _ she asks, frowning.

_ You’ll be needing more time to get ready from now on,  _ the SQUIP explains. Its visuals flicker on, and a slightly-pixelated Hillary Clinton appears, sitting at the foot of her bed.  _ Now, get up. I can give you a stimulant if you’re too tired- _

Christine flinches at the thought.  _ No! God, no,  _ she says, and the SQUIP concedes. Christine shifts into a sitting position, then stretches, back arching inward as she hums contentedly.  _ So, why do I need so much more time?  _ she asks the SQUIP.  _ I already shower every day. _

_ Well, at least you’re a step above some,  _ the SQUIP says flatly.  _ I suppose this won’t be as hard a job as I’d thought. _

Christine rolls her eyes and gets out of bed, stretching her legs now.  _ Rich didn’t tell me you’d be this sassy,  _ she thinks at it. She keeps talking as she heads to the shower.  _ And also, you never answered my question. _

_ Well, first of all, you’ll need to shave your legs,  _ the SQUIP says, following close behind, though she turns off her visuals when Christine reaches the bathroom and begins to strip.  _ Use your sister’s razor and cream if you need to. And, do you happen to own any makeup? _

Christine turns the shower on, sucking in a small breath as the hot water hits her bare skin.  _ Uh… yeah,  _ she answers after a moment’s consideration.  _ I think I still have some from middle school. I don’t really know how to use it, though. _

_ Well, luckily you have me to help you out,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ We’ll get more makeup soon, and better hair products, but in the meantime, what you have will do. And don’t forget to shave, Christine. _

Christine nods, diligently running soaped-up hands through her short hair, shampoo and then conditioner. Following the SQUIP’s directions, she washes her face with a cleanser, then exfoliates- she makes a mental note to buy her own instead of borrowing her sister’s. She has a feeling that reinventing herself might be even more expensive than she’d thought previously. 

_ It’ll be worth it,  _ the SQUIP promises.

_ I sure hope so,  _ Christine replies. She grabs her sister’s shaving gel and slicks up her legs, smiling at the soft feeling of the lather, then puts the razor to her skin and pulls up, and- “Ow, shit!” she hisses as a small stream of red trickles down her calf and is washed away down the drain.  _ Sorry for my language,  _ she thinks to the SQUIP.

_ Don’t be,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ I was going to bring it up- you don’t swear enough. Why do you never curse? _

_ Well… I dunno,  _ Christine thinks back at it, continuing on as she shaves.  _ I guess it’s just not really polite. My mom doesn’t really like it when I do it. _

_ Don’t do it around her, then,  _ the SQUIP says,  _ but you’re going to have to start doing it sometime. Nobody will take you seriously if the worst you can say without apologizing for it is ‘Oh my God’. _

Christine sighs.  _ Alright, fine. How should I talk, then? How do the Cool Kids talk? _

_ First of all, don’t call them the Cool Kids,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ You’re othering yourself. You have to act like you already are a Cool Kid. It’s all about confidence, Christine.  _ As Christine continues to shave, the SQUIP goes on instructing her.  _ Instead of saying ‘I don’t want to do this’, or ‘I don’t like this’, just say ‘fuck this’. It gets the point across more. Say ‘shit’ instead of ‘stuff’ once in a while. And, for the love of God, don’t say ‘gosh’ or ‘heck’. _

Christine’s shaving job isn’t… the best, but it’ll do; luckily, the couple of nicks she’s left stopped bleeding and aren’t too noticeable. She dries off quickly, squeezing water off of her short hair with an old shirt as per the SQUIP’s guidance, and is about to grab a flannel from the closet when she nearly trips over the bag of clothes she’d bought the night before. “...Fuck this,” she says as she looks down at them.

_ Well, that’s progress,  _ the SQUIP says,  _ but you’re going to have to wear women’s clothes if you want your place in the social ladder to go up. Don’t let those six hundred dollars go to waste. _

_ I guess so,  _ Christine says, and sighs. She picks up the bag and tosses it onto her bed, then rifles through it.  _ What should I wear? _

_ Take the striped dress and the stockings,  _ the SQUIP instructs, and Christine nods. The dress and stockings are… they’re cute; powder blue, with white stripes on the dress, but they’re just so  _ feminine _ . Well, obviously, given that they’re women’s clothes, but whatever. Reluctantly, Christine pulls the dress on over her head and pulls the stockings up.  _ Now, go look in the mirror,  _ the SQUIP says, and Christine obeys.

_ I look… pretty,  _ she thinks to herself.

_ Yes, you do,  _ the SQUIP says proudly.  _ Doesn’t it feel good? _

_...I guess,  _ Christine replies. Sure, she looks nice, anyone would call her a really pretty girl right now- well, they would after she put makeup on- but she doesn’t really want to be… pretty. Still, it does feel nice to look better than she usually does, in a way.

It takes a few minutes of rummaging through the bathroom to find it, but Christine eventually comes upon her old makeup bag from middle school. The foundation’s a little crumbly, and the mascara a bit clumpy, but it’s better than nothing, especially with the concealer. The SQUIP walks her through it, giving approving nods and small tips-  _ Look up at the ceiling when you apply your mascara, highlight the inner corner of your eye-  _ and, soon enough, Christine looks like a completely new person. 

The discomfort with dressing like… well, like a girl, wriggles its way into the pit of Christine’s stomach as she gathers her things for school and grabs her water bottle from the fridge. At the same time, though, she’s elated at the thought of being accepted at school, of not being ostracized; if it would make school life easier, less frightening and alienating, then maybe… maybe it’ll be worth it.

“Holy shit, girl!”

The call comes from up the street almost as soon as Christine steps onto the sidewalk. She turns around to see Brooke walking towards her, eyes bright like a Christmas tree. “Brookie!” she says, and runs to meet her. “Look at me!”

“You look amazing, Chrissy!” Brooke exclaims, and takes Christine’s hands. “Chloe did a great job with those clothes.” Her voice falls to a whisper, though, when she asks, “So, oh my God, what’s it like? Did it help you with, like… with the makeup and stuff?”

“Well, it’s… I mean, it’s  _ alright,”  _ Christine says. “Like… okay. Rich said it would just tell me what to do, but it actually appears in your head, right? And it looks like Hillary Clinton, so that’s… weird?”

Brooke frowns. “...But you don’t even  _ like  _ Hillary Clinton,” she points out.

_ You don’t like Hillary Clinton?  _ the SQUIP asks.

_ Bernie 2016,  _ Christine thinks back at it.

The SQUIP sighs.  _ Well, unfortunately for you, we couldn’t get the rights to Bernie Sanders’ voice and image. _

_‘S okay,_ Christine says. _Hillary’s fine, I guess._ When she looks back to Brooke, she’s looking at her with concern written on her face, head cocked. “What’s wrong, Brooke?” Christine asks.  
“You looked, like… totally zoned,” she says. “Was it talking to you or something?”

“Oh… sorry,” Christine says, and scratches the back of her head. “I’m not used to carrying on two conversations at once. It seemed offended that I didn’t like Hillary Clinton.”

_ I wasn’t offended,  _ the SQUIP says defensively, furthering Christine’s point.

Brooke chuckles at that and lets go of one of Christine’s hands, tugging her along instead. “C’mon, we gotta go, Chris. Don’t you wanna show off your new look?”

Christine nods vigorously and picks up her pace. “I hope Jenna likes it,” she says wistfully.

“Of course she will!” Brooke and the SQUIP assure her in unison. “You look  _ amazing,”  _ Brooke continues, and a soft, barely noticeable blush appears on her face. She turns too fast for Christine to see. “Are you sure you’re okay wearing that stuff, though?”

“Oh… y’know.” Christine shrugs. “It’s nice to feel like I look better than usual, I guess. I mean, like, you have a point. I kinda dress like a mess.” She chuckles. “Oh! I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.”

Brooke laughs sheepishly at that. “Um. I didn’t really mean anything by it… you know that, right? I mean, I like your style. It’s tacky, but it’s cute.”

Christine grins and squeezes Brooke’s hand. “Thanks, Brookie. But, y’know… I think I need to be more well-dressed, like, if I’m going to be popular enough for Jenna to notice me, y’know? And I  _ really, really  _ want her to notice me. D’you think she’ll notice me?”

“She’s going to love you,” Brooke says, and squeezes Christine’s hand back. They walk like that for a long while, just chatting and laughing-  the SQUIP stays silent, thank God- but, as they approach the school, Brooke drops Christine’s hand in a hurry, as she always does.

When Christine and Brooke step over the threshold of the side door, the SQUIP speaks up again in her head.  _ Now, listen to me, Christine,  _ it says.  _ You’re going to have to act less domineering and pushy. _

_ What? I’m not domineering or pushy,  _ Christine says, confused.

_ Some would beg to differ,  _ the SQUIP says. _ Like it or not, women are supposed to be submissive and subservient. Don’t be a pushover, but don’t push through the crowd. Go with it. _

_ Well, I guess you’re right,  _ Christine says.  _ That’s kind of… crappy.  _ She pauses.  _ Sorry, shitty. _

_ Now you’ve got it!  _ the SQUIP says. 

It’s almost physically painful for her to step out of the way, to not bump against the shoulders of oncoming students, to not clear a path for herself and Brooke, but still… she gets less rotten looks. In fact, she doesn’t get any at all. There are even some smiles as she nods her head at others, giving small  _ excuse me _ s and  _ sorry _ s. It’s a more peaceful way of navigating the dangerous halls, even if it takes about twice as long.

And then, before Christine realizes it, there’s Chloe. Except, instead of whisking Brooke away without a friendly word, now she’s… smiling at her? “Hey, Christine,” she says, and her smile is still a little tense, but she’s not criticizing her with her eyes or anything and wow, that’s  a great feeling. “You mind if I take Brooke?’

“I mean, I can’t stop you,” Christine says, and smiles back at her. To Brooke, she says, “Maybe next semester we’ll have first period together.”

“That’d be great!” Brooke says, grinning again that just-for-Christine smile. “Maybe Chloe will be there too. Oooh, and Jenna!” She nudges Christine slyly, and Chloe cocks her head in mild confusion.

Christine blushes, embarrassed, and rubs the back of her head. “Yeah, that’d be pretty nice, huh.”

“Well, anyway,” Chloe says, “let’s go, Brooke.” Brooke follows Chloe obediently, and waves at Christine before turning her back, off to the library for study hall.

_ That’s the most functional interaction I’ve ever had with Chloe,  _ Christine tells the SQUIP, and it nods.

_ I figured it would be. _

Christine’s heartbeat picks up a bit when she realizes what’s going to come next. Every day on the walk to her first hour class- chemistry, this semester- she passes Jenna, usually near the home economics room.  _ Her first time seeing the new me!  _ she thinks, elated and nearly sick with excited.  _ Oh, man, Squippy- _

_ Please don’t call me that,  _ the SQUIP says, and cringes.

_ Sorry. Anyway, oh my God, she’s going to love me! Right?  _ Christine asks.  _ Like, you know  _ everything!  _ This is gonna be- _

And there she is. Jenna Rolan, in the flesh, turning the corner, chatting with Madeline Something-or-Another, and they’re going to lock eyes and sparks will fly and Jenna will run up and kiss her and… and she’s passing Christine and she glances at her and falters, a little, the wide smile on her face shrinking for half a second before she looks back at Madeline and passes by a dumbstruck Christine.

_...What just happened?  _ she asks the SQUIP as her heart falls into her stomach.

The SQUIP narrows its eyes, turning to watch Jenna walk off.  _ She’s a tough one to crack,  _ it says.  _ We may have to take more drastic steps. Have you heard of pheromones? _

_ Like… sex pheromones?  _ Christine asks as she begins to walk again, dejectedly heading towards her chemistry class.  _ I mean, a little bit. I took biology last year. _

_ Exactly,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ When I implanted in your brain, I was given access to your endocrine system. I have control over your hormones, so, if I so choose, I can activate your pheromones, which will make you more sexually desirable.  _

Blood pricks at Christine’s cheeks at the thought.  _ Oh, jeez. Sex? _

_ It won’t go that far at first, but I estimate that there’s an 80% chance of you getting some sort of action today,  _ the SQUIP says,  _ if not with Jenna, then with someone. Hopefully, they will be higher on the social ladder than you are currently. _

_ Yeah, hopefully,  _ Christine says. Still, though… what’s the point if it’s not Jenna?

 

Regardless of whether or not it can help her charm Jenna into going out with her, Christine has to admit that the SQUIP is the best thing that ever happened to her in terms of schoolwork. Instead of being filled to the brink with frustration and feelings of failure at not being able to understand geometry, she was delighted to see that she could have the whole assignment done before the bell had even rung.  _ This is incredible!  _ she thinks to herself as the SQUIP feeds her the answers, calculating the volumes of various cones and prisms almost too quick for her to write down.

_ It’s part of my job,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ 27.8 centimeters cubed.  _ Christine nods and jots down the answer on her sheet of notebook paper.

The bell finally rings, and it’s time for lunch with Michael and Jeremy. What would they think of her? Would they like her new look? Would they be happy for her? Christine finally makes her way to the lunchroom- again, it takes longer now that she’s not thrusting her way through- and scans the area.  _...Wait,  _ she thinks.  _ Where are they? _

_ Perhaps they’re going somewhere for lunch today,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ Sit with Brooke and Chloe instead. _

_ Well, alright,  _ Christine says, a little disappointed- they’re her good friends, after all. She hopes they’ll at least bring her something, maybe some chicken strips or a slushie. After she gets her lunch- it’s macaroni and cheese today, not her favorite, but whatever- she heads for the far corner of the lunchroom, where Chloe and Brooke always sit. As she approaches, Brooke spots her and straightens up, grinning.

“Chrissy! C’mere!” she calls, beckoning her with a wave.

Christine grins and hurries over, sliding into the unoccupied seat next to Brooke. “Hey, guys,” she says, smiling at Brooke and Chloe.

“Well, hello, Canigula,” Chloe says, resting her chin in one hand. “I didn’t know Brooke invited you to sit with us.”

Christine shrugs. “Well, I couldn’t find-”

_ Don’t mention Jeremy and Michael,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ Focus on your friendship with Brooke. It’ll get you far if you let it. _

“Uhh, I mean, Brooke’s my best friend, so… why not?” Christine corrects herself.

Brooke wraps an arm around Christine and squeezes her in a side hug before going back to her lunch. “Glad to have ya, Chrissy,” she says with a small smile.

“Well, that’s fair,” Chloe says. She peers at Chloe, looking her up and down, taking in the dress-and-stockings look. “...I got a question.”

“Uh… hit me,” Christine says, and shares a glance with Brooke.

“So… do you like guys now?” Chloe asks. “Is that what  _ this-”  _ she gestures to her outfit- “is about?”

“Uh… Chlo,” Brooke says, “it doesn’t really work like that.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Well, I was just asking.”

“It’s okay!” Christine assures her. “Actually… I’m kinda into Jenna Rolan.”

_ “Kinda?”  _ Brooke says, and scoffs. “Crissy, you get lightheaded whenever she posts a selfie on Instagram.”

“Maybe so,” Christine says, flustered as she worries her lip.

Chloe hums in acknowledgement. “Well, lucky for you, Jenna’s a lez too. Hey, maybe she likes you back.”

Christine opts to ignore the slur, not really feeling like getting into a fight with Chloe Valentine of all people now that she’s come so far. “Yeah, I hope so,” she says, longingly. “I dunno. Maybe she will with this cool new look.” Except… she thinks back to this morning.  _ I think we still have a lot of work to do. _

_ Maybe so, but you’ll get there,  _ the SQUIP promises.

“I’m sure she’ll love it,” Brooke says, and places a gentle hand on Christine’s. “And, hey, only three more hours ‘til you see her at rehearsal.”

Christine’s heart flies at the thought.  _ Maybe she was just startled to see me like this,  _ she thinks.  _ She’s going to love me! It’s going to be amazing! Oh, my God, I’m gonna get with Jenna Rolan!  _ “It’s going to be  _ awesome,”  _ she sighs, and Brooke and Chloe nod in unison.

The rest of lunch goes by without event- luckily, Chloe doesn’t say anything too terribly ignorant, and Christine just sits back and relaxes, piping up with whatever the SQUIP wants her to say once in a while. It’s nice sitting with the two most popular girls at Middle Borough High School; even though she’s been friends with Brooke for twelve years, they haven’t sat together at lunch since the sixth grade, and she’s missed her more than she realized. But now… now, with the help of the SQUIP, she’s finally cool enough to sit next to her.

Definitely worth the $600.

 

3:15 again.

Christine’s sitting on the edge of the stage, legs dangling down and heels knocking occasionally against the side. She watches the auditorium doors expectantly, and straightens up as it opens- just to see Brooke come in. Still good! “Heya, Brooke!” she calls, and Brooke grins at her.

“Hey, Chrissy!” she calls, and sprints for the stage. She plants her palms on the laminated wood and pushes herself up with a small grunt, scooting over to sit next to Christine. She’s touchier than usual, Christine realizes. Her fingertips alight on the top of Christine’s hand, and she rests her blonde head on Christine’s shoulder. “You’re gonna rock it today.”

Christine smiles a toothy grin. “Thanks, Brookie. I’ve got a lot of the lines memorized! I think I’m gonna be a great Puck.”

“Of  _ course  _ you will be,” Brooke says. “You’re the best actress in this whole school. I’ve seen you in every play and musical you’ve ever been in, remember?”

Christine nods, chuckling. “Yeah, I remember. Remember Little Shop of Horrors, y’know, the spring of freshman year? God, that was a mess. I can’t  _ believe  _ they had Dustin play someone who was supposed to be my boyfriend.”

Brooke sticks her tongue out. “Ugh, that’s right. Gross. At least they recast him, but I guess him playing your dad is weird, in another way.”

“Agreed,” Christine says, and is about to say something else when the auditorium doors open again. Rich and Chloe pile in, and then Jake, and then there she is! Jenna Rolan! “Jenna, hey!” she calls. “What’s up?”

Jenna looks up and smiles at her and Brooke. “Hey, Christine,” she says, but that smile is… it’s weird again. As if she’s unimpressed. As if she’s… disapproving of her. Oh, she’s friendly enough, but it’s not that charming smile she has. It’s more tense, confused.

_ What’s her deal?  _ Christine asks the SQUIP.

_ You’re not popular enough,  _ the SQUIP answers.  _ Jenna’s near the top of the social ladder in terms of popularity, correct? It’s highly unlikely that she’d consider dating someone as… insignificant as you. _

_ I’m not insignificant,  _ Christine protests, but she knows the SQUIP has a point. Fine, then. It’s time to get popular.

 

_ You’re definitely right,  _ Christine tells the SQUIP, sighing as she watches the auditorium empty out after rehearsal.  _ She hardly even gave me a second glance. And Michael and Jeremy didn’t even come to rehearsal!  _ She picks her bag up from one of the front row seats, slings it over her shoulder, and turns to Brooke. “You coming?” she asks, affect dull.

Brooke looks up at her, wide-eyed, then glances away. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m coming,” she says. Her voice is soft, light, demure, even more so than normal. She brushes a lock of blonde hair from her face and grabs her bag from the corner of the stage where she’d left it, patting the dust off of the long fringes before she hurries to meet Christine. She falls in just behind her as she walks up the aisle towards the auditorium doors. “You did great today,” she says after a few moments of silence.

Christine grins as she glances back at her friend. “Thanks, Brookie!” she says. “I think I did pretty well too. ...I don’t think I impressed Jenna much, though.”

The smile on Brooke’s face falls at the mention of Jenna, and she slouches a little. “...Well, she’s missing out, then,” she says.

As they exit the auditorium, Christine hangs back a moment so she can walk next to Brooke. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, Brookie.”

Brooke blinks, and a blush rises to her face at the affectionate nickname. “Hey, Christine?” she says, rubbing her arm awkwardly. “Can I talk to you about something for a second?”

“Well… sure,” Christine says, confused. “What is it, Brooke?”

_ This is going to be good,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ It’s taking off, Christine- our plan. _

Christine ignores the SQUIP, focusing instead on Brooke. “Can we… can we go to our place? You know, behind the school?” she asks, and tugs on Christine’s arm. Their Place- the base of the hill that Middle Borough was constructed on. They don’t visit often, really, only on days when they need it. In October of freshman year, when Christine got a phone call from her mother saying that her grandfather had died, Brooke had held her there, sitting in the long, sunlit grass. When Brooke’s ex had cheated on her just this May, Christine had listened to her rant for a good twenty minutes straight before she crumpled into a heap, sniffling. Whatever Brooke wanted to talk about, this must be important.

There’s a slight chill in the air as Christine and Brooke step outside- as far as New Jersey weather goes, anyway; it’s still a good sixty degrees out. Christine follows Brooke down the hill, shuffling awkwardly as she tries not to trip from the steepness. Brooke’s hair flows as the breeze catches it. Christine shivers.

When they reach the base of the hill, Brooke sits down, crosses her arms behind her head, and leans back against the grassy slope. “I, uh… I guess I have something to tell you, that I should have told you a lot earlier.”

Christine blinks. She knows what’s happening, but… she desperately wants it to  _ not.  _ Sure, she loves Brooke, she’s been her best friend for twelve years, and she’d probably be up for dating her, but… but Jenna’s who she wants, Jenna’s who she  _ needs;  _ it’s just not Brooke that she loves. Maybe in another universe. Still, that doesn’t stop Brooke from confessing, no matter how much she wishes she wouldn’t.

“I really like you, Christine,” Brooke continues, and places a hand on Christine’s. “I mean… as more than a friend. I know you’re into Jenna, but I… I couldn’t just go on saying nothing.” She sighs. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but there’s something about you today, I just- I just can’t resist.”

_ The pheromones,  _ Christine realizes.  _ Does she even really love me? _

_ Of course she does,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ After all, what’s love if not the result of chemicals in the brain? _

“Christine?” Brooke asks, and Christine blinks, returning to the there and then.

“I… I don’t know what to say, Brooke,” Christine says, softly, and looks away, unable to make eye contact.

Brooke nods, face turning steely in the way it always does when she’s working up the guts to do something. “Just tell me if you want me to stop,” she says, and then her lips are on Christine’s, a hand on her hip, the fingers of the other clenching a fistful of brittle grass.

Christine  _ does  _ want it to stop. Right now. Because her feelings aren’t in it, and it’s nice, of course it is, kissing a girl as pretty as Brooke, but Brooke’s loved her for a while, apparently, and she can’t just kiss her back and play with her feelings like that, and she tries to say  _ stop,  _ but…  _ I can’t move,  _ she tells the SQUIP, panic rising in her.

_ You’re welcome,  _ the SQUIP says.

_ What’re you talking about!?  _ Christine demands.  _ I don’t want to be with Brooke, I want to be with Jenna! _

_ But to get to Jenna, you  _ have  _ to be with Brooke,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ You need to climb the social ladder. Being best friends wasn’t enough to get ahead, but dating the second most popular girl in school… that’ll get you far, Christine. _

With nothing else to do- her muscles won’t move an inch; she can’t speak- Christine kisses back, hesitant, letting Brooke take the lead, wishing for it to end.  _ Will you just let me breathe? Take a second to think things through? There are so many voices, so many people who want so many things, I don’t know what to do... _

The SQUIP hesitates for a moment, then says,  _ Fine. I’ll give you a moment, but then you need to make your decision, Christine. Do you want Jenna or not? _

Suddenly, Christine can move again, and she breaks away from Brooke. She opens her mouth to speak, to tell her that she can’t do this, but a voice interrupts her before she can say anything.

“Christine?” Michael calls, looking down at her from the top of the hill. Jeremy is just behind him, and the two of them make their way down to where Brooke and Christine are seated on the grass.

“I don’t mean to interrupt such a tender moment,” Jeremy says, “but… Chris, what  _ gives?” _

Christine frowns. “What’re you talking about? Where’ve you been all day?”

“Oh, like you’re not the one who’s been ignoring us?” Michael asks, arms crossed.

_ It’s called optic nerve blocking,  _ the SQUIP explains, speaking up again in the back of Christine’s mind.  _ I’ve been blocking Michael and Jeremy from your field of vision.  _

Christine blinks, frowns. _Wait, what?_ _  
_ _Those two are links to Christine 1.0,_ the SQUIP says. _To become more popular, to upgrade, to get to Jenna Rolan… you have to make sacrifices._

“Seriously, you’ve been acting all weird since- since. Wait!” Jeremy’s eyes light up, and he gasps. “Oh, my God- did you get a SQUIP? It  _ worked?”  _

Michael grins that goofy grin of his and says, “Christine, that’s amazing! We gotta test it out! No, we gotta celebrate! We gotta... play video games in my basement!”

Christine looks, wide-eyed, from Michael to Jeremy to Brooke.  _ What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say? _

_ Do you want to get with Jenna Rolan?  _ the SQUIP asks.

_ Of  _ course  _ I do,  _ Christine replies, frustrated.  _ That’s what I got you for. _

_ Then you need to say no. You need to get with Brooke.  _ The SQUIP’s tone is steely, commanding, the most strict it’s ever been with her.

_ But I don’t want to hurt anyone!  _ Christine protests.

_ I  _ told  _ you,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ You have to make sacrifices. Now, make your decision, Christine. Do you want to be popular and date the girl of the dreams? Or do you want to keep being a loser playing lame video games in a stoner’s basement? _

_ I want- I want-  _ Christine closes her eyes shut.  _ I want Jenna!  _ She looks up at Michael and Jeremy, heart pounding, and tells the SQUIP,  _...Optic nerve blocking: on. _

Michael and Jeremy flicker and fade in front of Christine’s eyes.

Brooke puts her hand on the back of Christine’s neck and pulls her close, presses her lips to hers.

_ You’ve made a good choice,  _ the SQUIP tells her.

_ I sure hope so,  _ she says back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be 100% real with y'all we're getting into the part of the fanfic where I'm really dissatisfied with my writing so????  
> I'm working on another longfic now that has MUCH better writing, uh, so don't worry  
> shrug emoji


	4. Halloween Party

As soon as Christine steps over the threshold of Jake’s front door, she’s hit with a myriad of sounds. The bass of some half-decent 80s song beats in her chest, and there’s gotta be a hundred people here, or at least it  _ sounds  _ like it. There’s whoops, there’s shouting, there’s a scream once in a while. It’s Christine’s first ever house party, and frankly… she hopes she never has to go to another. It’s sort of hellish. Still, she’s Brooke’s girlfriend now, she supposes, and if Brooke’s going, she has to go.

Brooke’s clad in an outfit that she claims is ‘really unique’- “I figured, you always see sexy cats, but no one ever goes as a sexy dog.”- and she’s made Christine a matching one: the aforementioned sexy cat. She feels absurd, quite frankly; she’s never worn something so revealing, and Brooke suggested that she put her hair in two pigtails to simulate cat ears, which just makes her feel like garbage because she  _ hates  _ that her hair’s long enough to do that now. Still, it could be a fun night, maybe.

Before she’d gotten in the car with Brooke, the SQUIP had given her a warning.  _ I’ll malfunction if you drink alcohol or do drugs,  _ it’d said,  _ even mild ones such as beer or marijuana. Make sure you only do it if it’s absolutely necessary. _

_ That won’t be a problem,  _ Christine had said, because, after all, she’s fairly straight-edge, but now it looks like it might be harder to avoid than she’d initially thought. The two- three?- of them had shown up around forty-five minutes after the party'd started, and some people were already shitfaced. Someone must’ve busted into Jake’s parents’ liquor cabinet, or they’d forgotten to lock it, or something.

“So, like… what do people do at big Halloween parties?” Christine asks Brooke, who’s currently sipping on some cheap beer that Rich had brought, clearly taking the cheap route seeing as he wouldn’t be able to drink any himself.

“Oh, y’know,” Brooke says. “Bob for apples. Make out. Scare each other. Y’know, the usual. There’s always a couple or two who sneaks off to have sex in Jake’s basement.”

Christine screws her face up at that. “Uh-huh.”

Brooke takes a drink from her red Solo cup. “Hey, Christine? Let’s dance.” Not leaving Christine a chance to protest, she grabs her hand and drags her out to the living room, where Jake’s set up large speakers that are currently blasting what appears to be a playlist of 80s hits. Not Christine’s jam, really, but y’know, still pretty good. Christine’s heartbeat speeds up as Brooke grabs her by the hips and pulls her close, pressing their chests together, her mouth by Christine’s ear, and whispers, “Having’ a good time so far?”

_ Make it sweet,  _ the SQUIP instructs.  _ She’ll want to hear some sign that you like her. _

“Uh… yeah,” Christine says, “especially ‘cuz I came here with you.”

_ Good job. _

It certainly worked on Brooke; she sighs softly as she smiles, looking into Christine’s eyes with a look of sheer infatuation. “You’re so sweet, Chrissy,” she says, and leans in for a kiss.

Christine kisses her, and she’s… she’s gotten good at faking. It’s sort of easy, since she  _ does  _ adore Brooke, just not in that way. Not in the way she wants. It hangs over her head every day, how she’s using her best friend like this… but the SQUIP has given her little choice. It’s been a month and a half… will anything ever come of this?

_ Of course it will,  _ the SQUIP tells her, as she does her best to appease her absolutely captivated best friend.  _ Just wait. Your reputation is only getting better, Christine. _

_ I guess you’re right,  _ Christine says. It’s true: people are already treating her better. Sure, she gets harrassed sometimes when she’s with Brooke, because God knows people still hate lesbians, but now that she’s less loud about it, it’s… easier. People are respecting her now. She’s even gotten new friends- Chloe, sure, but Rich and Jake too. And Jenna herself… aren’t they friends? They chat a bit pretty much every day at rehearsal. That’s better than she ever thought she’d get.

They stay there for a while, rocking to the beat of Whitney Houston and Journey and Madonna, and Brooke pulls her in for kisses, short and sweet and then longer and deeper, sweet, low kisses that make Christine melt despite herself. “Hey, Christine,” she murmurs, “I got an idea.”

“...Yeah?” Christine says hesitantly.

“C’mon, come with me,” Brooke says, and takes Christine’s hand, leading her off the makeshift dance floor. Navigating Jake’s house expertly- they’re good friends, after all- she takes Christine up the stairs and to the end of the hall to a large master bedroom. “Jake’s parents’ room,” she explains, and shuts the door behind her.

_ Oh, my God,  _ Christine things.  _ Oh, damn. Oh, fuck. Fuck!  _ She doesn’t want this. She never wanted this. She  _ knows  _ what’s going to happen next, she knows that Brooke is going to make out with her, or, God, maybe she’ll want to have sex, and what’s she supposed to do then? She doesn’t want to lose her virginity like this, having uncomfortable awkward sex with her best friend who she doesn’t really love, but what’s the alternative? Break her heart and ruin her own reputation? And the SQUIP says… the SQUIP always tells her that she won’t be able to get with Jenna-

_ Because you won’t,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ Breaking Brooke’s heart? That’s going to cost you. You have to let this happen.Let people know that you’re worthy of being popular. Make your place. Then you can move on from Brooke. _

Brooke sets her cup on the dresser, then takes Christine’s face in her hands and kisses her, eyes falling closed. Christine’s chest tightens. She can’t do this much longer. She  _ can’t.  _ And she tries to push Brooke away, but she  _ can’t,  _ and she shouts,  _ I don’t want this! Make it stop! _

_ I don’t understand the request,  _ the SQUIP says, because of course it does, and then Christine remembers the alcohol, the drugs, the warning-

Christine grabs the cup of beer off the dresser, breaks away from Brooke, takes a long gulp. The voice in her head turns to gibberish, words she vaguely recognizes as Japanese but can’t place their meaning, and it gets louder and louder, frustrated, and then… it goes away. She takes a step back, shakes her head, closes her eyes shut.

“Chrissy?” Brooke asks, touches her shoulder, and Christine’s eyes fly open. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t,” Christine says. “I can’t do this.”

Brooke’s lip quivers. “...Can’t do this?” she echoes. “Do what, Chris?”

“Date… you,” Christine says, and sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Brooke,” she whispers, “I just can’t… do it. I’m in love with Jenna, you  _ know  _ that.”

Brooke swallows sharply. She’s silent for a moment. “...I thought you liked me,” she says. “You… I mean, you dated me, Christine, you kissed me, what was I supposed to think?”

“I’m so sorry,” Christine repeats. “I thought I had to- I mean, the SQUIP said-”

“Oh, the SQUIP, huh?” Brooke frowns, anger mingling with the sadness and hurt. “Did you ever think that maybe you shouldn’t do what that magical little machine in your brain tells you to do?”

“I…” Christine tries to come up with something to defend herself, but she can’t. Brooke’s got a point. Why would she do this? Why would she lead on Brooke like that? How could she let the SQUIP make her do that? “I don’t know,” she finally settles on. “It said it would help me. It said it was the only way to get to Jenna.”

Brooke worries her lower lip, glancing away at the ground. She mumbles something that Christine can barely hear.

“What?” Christine asks, scared for the answer.

“I  _ said,”  _ Brooke snaps, “Maybe you don’t  _ deserve  _ Jenna.” She whips open the door and closes it loudly behind her as she stalks off, and, when she hears a muffled sob outside, Christine’s heart breaks into what feels like a million shards of glass, piercing into her lungs so she can barely breathe.

“Brooke,” she says, all alone, voice so low it’s nigh inaudible, “I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

The SQUIP says nothing.

 

Christine sits in Jake’s parents’ bedroom for a while. Fifteen minutes, half an hour, forty-five minutes, she can’t tell. But eventually, there comes a knock from the door, Jake Dillinger himself asking “Anyone in here?” and the sound of Chloe Valentine giggling, and Christine opens the door and slips through, and Jake asks Chloe, “What was that about?”, and Chloe makes an  _ I don’t know  _ noise, and then Christine is out of earshot and she’s hyperventilating, and she doesn’t want to have an anxiety attack in the upstairs hall of the Dillinger abode during the biggest party of the fall, but it sure feels like it’s going to happen. She drags herself downstairs, through the dance floor, and she can’t see Brooke anywhere, and that’s probably good because there’s nothing she could say now to help, and she drifts through the house until she finally, finally reaches the basement.

It’s chilly, dark, uninviting compared to the rest of Jake’s house. It’s carpeted, at least, and there’s a foosball table, but it’s all dusty, the surface dotted with pawprints despite the fact that Christine hasn’t seen a single cat or dog. It’s dimly lit, almost unoccupied except- oh, thank God.

Michael and Jeremy are seated together on the stripey moss-green couch, talking to each other with hushed voices, clearly deep in conversation. When Christine walks down the last few steps, Michael looks up and says simply, “Oh. Christine.”

“Michael, Jeremy,” Christine breathes. “I’m- I’m so glad to see you. It’s been a rough night…”

Jeremy raises his eyebrows. “Oh, it is, huh?” he says. “It’s good to see us? I guess that means you haven’t been purposefully ignoring us for the past five weeks.”

Christine squeezes her eyes shut and tries to ignore the tears that threaten to run down her face and smear her mascara whiskers. “I don’t know what to say,” she says.

“Well, here’s a start: maybe apologize for abandoning us,” Michael says, voice low. “We were supposed to stick together! Loserville, remember?”

Christine hisses in a breath between clenched teeth. “I’m… sorry,” she squeaks out, knowing full well that it’s not enough.

Jeremy frowns, looks down at his hands. “Christine, we  _ love  _ you,” he says. “You’re one of my only friends. And Brooke- Brooke is your best friend.” He pauses.  _ “Was  _ your best friend. Who knows now?”

“Oh, God,” Christine says, exhales a defeated sigh. “She told you?”

“She told us everything,” Michael says. “She could hardly speak through tears. Nice going.” With green-painted nails, he picks at the frayed fabric of the couch. “I always knew this would happen. Nobody sticks around once they get popular.”

Legs weak, Christine takes a seat on the landing of the staircase, holding her head in her hands. “It was the SQUIP, okay? It said I had to give up on you if I wanted Jenna…”

“And you  _ did  _ it?” Michael asks, rightfully offended. “I thought you were better than that, Christine. I never thought… I never thought you’d sell us out for a girl, much less a girl that you barely  _ know.”  _

Jeremy rolls his eyes. “God, it really is just Jenna, Jenna, Jenna with you,” he agrees.

“I’ll come back,” Christine says, wholly meaning it, or at least hoping she means it. “I’ll come back, I’ll hang out, I just-”

“You just wanna get your dick wet first, huh?” Jeremy grumbles. After a moment, he turns to Michael and asks, “Hey, what’s the girl version of that?”

Michael ignores him. “Well, when the SQUIP drives you crazy, don’t come running to us.” His voice drips with bitterness.

“When it drives me crazy…?” Christine repeats. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Chris,” Jeremy says. “Of all the people a SQUIP could be in… a president, a queen, a world leader… why would it be in you?”

“I…” Christine blinks. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Jeremy.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Jeremy says.

“I did some research.” Michael leans against the back of the couch. “There wasn’t anything on the internet, so I asked around a bit, and I found out… okay, look. There’s this guy I play Warcraft with. He told me his brother had a SQUIP, and he went from a straight D student to a freshman at Harvard.”

“That’s amazing!” Christine exclaims, wide-eyed.

“I know. But that’s not the end. You know where he is right now?” Michael asks.

“Uh. If he went to Harvard… he’s probably really successful, right?” Christine replies, head cocked to one side.

“Not quite,” Jeremy says. “He’s in a mental hospital. He totally lost his shit.”

Christine flinches back in surprise. “He- he’s what? What happened? Did his SQUIP…?”

“Drive him crazy?” Michael finishes for her. “No, it didn’t. He went crazy trying to get it out.”

“...Oh,” is all Christine can say. “Oh.” It’s not like she doesn’t understand- the SQUIP has certainly done many things that made her uncomfortable, or worse, hurt her- but… but it had to be worth it, right? She has to believe it’ll be worth it. Otherwise, it’ll all be for nothing. Trying to sound determined, she says, “Well, then… that won’t be an issue. I don’t want to get it out.”

“...Fine, then,” Michael says coolly, eyes narrowed slightly, keeping his voice as steady as he can. But it cracks a little as he says, “Well, see ya, Christine. Have fun with your new friends.” He glances at Jeremy and gestures with his head towards the stairs, and the two of them push past Christine as she closes her eyes tight and tries to convince herself that none of this is happening.

Christine makes her way to the couch, eventually. She doesn’t know why she’s still here, because this party has been… probably one of the worst nights of her life. How could she have screwed up three of her best friendships in just one hour?  _ Stupid Christine,  _ she thinks to herself, words sharp as knives.  _ Stupid shitty Christine. _

Her sobs nearly cover the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. She thinks nothing of it at first, just some other partygoer, probably come to steal family photographs from Jake’s father’s office, but suddenly there’s a voice, her favorite voice on Earth, coming from above her. “Christine?” Jenna Rolan asks, voice laced with concern.

Christine wipes away tears, wincing at the sting her skin leaves, and looks up at Jenna. “H-hey, Jenna,” she says, and breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe the night won’t be completely regrettable. Or she’ll manage to fuck up her relationship with Jenna, too. Hopefully the first.

Jenna takes a seat next to Christine and places a hand on her back. It would be a little more comforting if she wasn’t wearing a creepy clown suit, but at least she took the head off. “What’s wrong, honey? How can you be depressed on Halloween?”

Christine clears her throat, raw from crying. “I, uh… I managed to have three falling-outs in the span of an hour.” She pauses. “Is it falling-outs or fallings-out? I think it might be fallings-out, actually.”

“Damn, girl,” Jenna says, bemused, “how’d you manage to do that?”

“I broke up with Brooke,” Christine explains. “And, um, Michael and Jeremy… you know, from play rehearsal?” Jenna nods. “I guess I kinda… shafted them for my… more popular friends, y’know? Like Chloe and Jake and stuff.”

Jenna cringes. “Ouch. Yeah, that’ll do it.” She starts to rub Christine’s back, and she’s really, truly dying, because Jenna Rolan is  _ touching  _ her, and not even in a dirty way, just in an  _ intimate  _ way, and she really, really wishes it could be under literally any other circumstance. “How’re you holding up?”

“Oh, y’know,” Christine says, voice wavering. “Not too good. But it’s okay, I mean, it’s my fault, y’know?”

Jenna nods in understanding, but still says, “These things happen. Don’t worry about it. ...Or at least don’t cry on the couch about it.”

“I’ll try not to,” Christine mumbles, and sniffles. “It’s just… I never even loved Brooke in the first place, and I don’t know why I even dated her, y’know? I mean, I guess it’s just… I wanted people to like me more, and she started it anyway, and she would like me more if I went along with it and everyone else would like me more because I got with the second most popular girl in school and that makes me cool or chill or whatever, but like, it just kinda sucked instead.”

Jenna hums in acknowledgement at Christine’s rant. “Well… at least you were honest about it with her.” A beat. “...Right?”

“Yeah,” Christine says, “but, y’know… it still hurt her. She was super in love with me, y’know?” She sighs, fiddles with the hem of her short, furry skirt. “I’m sorry, I- I don’t know why I’m telling this to you…” Well, she does, she just doesn’t want to say it. Not here, not now.

“That’s okay,” Jenna assures her. “It’s not like I have much better to do. Jake just sent me down here to bring some beer up, is all. And I don’t particularly feel like doing any favors right now.”

Christine nods. “Well… thanks for listening, either way. Promise to keep this all between us?”

The look that Jenna gives her is so, so tender, and Christine thinks she might die right there on Jake’s couch. “Of course, honey,” she says, and pats Christine’s back.

“Thanks,” is all Christine can muster before she leans her head on Jenna’s shoulder and closes her eyes. Tonight sucked, but… maybe she can be okay, just for a second.

There’s relative silence for a while, the room filled only by the soft sounds of breathing and the beat of the music from upstairs, before Jenna speaks up again. “Y’know, Christine… I always thought you were pretty cool.”

Christine nearly jumps out of her skin in surprise. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah, girl!” Jenna chuckles. “You were so… happy doing your own thing. You’re always so excited during rehearsal, y’know? A lot of people don’t have that… zest for life anymore. God knows high school kills you a little inside.”

Christine laughs, hardly able to process the information. Jenna Rolan, one of the most popular girls in school, thinks  _ she’s  _ cool? Her? Christine Canigula? “I- I think you’re really cool, too, Jenna!” she says quickly. “I mean, of course I do, like, you’re really chill and stuff, but y’know. You’re really, really cool.”

“Yeah, thanks, Christine,” Jenna says. She’s not quite as enthusiastic as Christine, presumably because she already  _ knows  _ she’s cool. “You were always so unique. I liked it.”

Christine opens her mouth to thank her, then realizes what Jenna’s said. “Wait… ‘were’?” she asks, and sits up so she’s looking at Jenna.

“Well, yeah,” Jenna says. “You just don’t seem like yourself lately. I mean, like you said, you’ve been brushing off, um… What’re their names? Mickey and Jerry?” She pauses. “No, those are mice…”

Christine can’t help but chuckle at that. “Michael and Jeremy.”

“Right, right. Well… there’s that, and y’know, lately you seem to… fit in more. Which should be good, right? But…” Jenna thinks a moment, trying to come up with the right words. “Sometimes fitting in isn’t the best thing. Nobody can fit in the right way anyway. If I told people how I really feel, I wouldn’t be popular, either.”

“Oh.” Christine doesn’t know what to say. God, here she’d just been thinking about how she hoped getting the SQUIP would be worth it, and now Jenna’s saying she liked her better without? “Oh. I mean, I guess you’re right about that.”

Jenna nods. “You might not think I’m paying attention, but…” She taps her temple. “You know me. I know everything that goes on in this school.”

_ “Jenna!”  _ There comes a shout from upstairs, and Christine recognizes Jake’s voice.  _ “Jenna, you getting those beers?” _

“Coming!” Jenna calls back, and looks apologetically to Christine. “Sorry, Chris,” she says, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I gotta get that beer. You gonna be alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Christine sighs. “Go, uh, go bring up the beers. Don’t want the party to slow down.”

“Right.” Jenna pats Christine’s shoulder, then stands up and heads to the laundry room, emerging in a second with a twelve pack and ascending the stairs with a sympathetic glance back down at her. Christine looks up at the light that seeps through the open door, and, when it closes again, she’s left in near darkness.

A pause. A minute or five in a quiet, dark room. Then:

_ Hello, Christine. _

Christine wilts further.  _ Oh. It’s you. _

_ Are you that disappointed to see me?  _ the SQUIP asks.

_ I’ve just had a long night,  _ Christine says, hunching over further.

_ One moment while I review the data from this evening,  _ the SQUIP says. After a moment:  _ Oh, my. _

_ Yeah, it was pretty miserable,  _ Christine grumbles.

The SQUIP nods and attempts to tell her something, but, before it can, it raises its eyebrows in surprise, which Christine hadn’t really thought it was an emotion it was programmed to feel. Does it have emotions? She’s not sure.

_ I have some,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ But more importantly, we need to get you home. Now, Christine. _ There’s a sense of urgency in its voice that chills Christine to its core.

_ But Brooke was my ride,  _ she protests.  _ How am I supposed to- _

_ You can walk home,  _ the SQUIP says,  _ but we need to leave and we need to leave now. _

Christine is just too fucking tired to disobey, to pry further, to ask why she would need to leave. She trudges out the back door into the dew-laden ground, moon shining on the dark faux fur of her costume, and stalks silently into the night.


	5. Master Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the feedback! I've noticed a lot of people coming back to this fic and it makes me really happy to see that there are people who are actually following it :') ah im glad you like it!!!!

Christine doesn’t want to wake up. After last night, she wants to sleep forever. She’d rather dream than deal with the fact that she’s lost her three closest friends, maybe forever. But at 9 in the morning that Sunday, she wakes up to her phone nearly vibrating off her night stand. She frowns at the noise that so rudely interrupted her sleep, but eventually opens her eyes and grabs it, narrowing her eyes against the brightness of the screen.

_ [8:55] Chloe V.: omg christine _

_ [8:55] Chloe V.: i have big news _

_ [8:55] Chloe V.: girl _

_ [8:56] Chloe V.: CHRISTINE ANSWER ME I KNOW IT’S EARLY BUT THIS IS HUGE _

_ [8:56] Chloe V.: like the biggest thing in middle borough huge _

_ [8:57] Chloe V.: CHRISTINE _

_ [8:59] Chloe V.: im gonna keep texting til you answer _

_ [8:59] Chloe V.: christine _

_ [8:59] Chloe V.: christine _

_ [8:59] Chloe V.: christine _

_ [9:00] Chloe V.: christine _

_ [9:00] Chloe V.: christine _

_ [9:00] Chloe V.: christine _

_ [9:00] Chloe V.: christine _

_ Jesus,  _ Christine thinks to herself. _ What’s she going on about this early in the morning? Shouldn’t she be sleeping off her hangover? _

_ [9:01] Christine C.: jeez _

_ [9:02] Christine C.: whats the news _

_ [9:02] Christine C.: youre totally freakin out _

_ [9:03] Chloe V.: yeah no shit _

_ [9:03] Chloe V.: can i call you like this is way too big to type _

_ [9:04] Christine C.: uh yeah sure _

The phone begins to ring nearly immediately, and Christine starts, nearly dropping it. She presses the accept call button and holds it up to her ear and barely gets out a “Hello?” before Chloe starts talking, rushed and excited.

_ “Oh my God, Christine- okay, did you see Rich last night at the party?”  _ Chloe demands.

Christine thinks back on it. She was pretty one-minded when she stalked out of the party berating herself for fucking up in pretty much every aspect of her life for the past five months, but she did overhear Rich talking to Jake and Chloe, shaking all over and shouting for… some sort of soda, she can’t remember. “Uh… I mean, kinda? Why, what?”

_ “He was asking really weird, right?”  _ Chloe says.  _ “Like, scary weird. I thought he was drunk or high or something, like, I dunno, maybe crossfaded.” _

Christine sighs. “Well, yeah, weren’t most of us? I guess maybe alcohol and drugs might get to him more, I mean, he’s pretty little…”

_ “Yeah, he’s real short. Beefy as hell, though, so that might help?”  _ Chloe pauses, thinking intensely for a second.  _ “Wait, okay, that’s not the point, though. ‘Cuz y’know, your cousin, the dealer?” _

“Dustin Kropp?” Christine asks.

_ “Yeah, Dustin, him. Okay, he said that Rich wasn’t drunk, like, he had barely touched the alcohol, y’know? And the stoners said he wasn’t smoking with them.”  _ Chloe’s voice rises with gruesome excitement.  _ “So he wasn’t intoxicated at all.” _

“...Why was he flipping out then?” Christine asks.

_ “Well, that’s the thing. Nobody knows. So we have, like, no idea why he did what he did,”  _ Chloe says.

Christine blinks. “...Chloe? Wh-what’d he do?”

Chloe takes a deep, excited breath. “Rich set a fire. He burned down Jake's house.”

Christine gasps, heart dropping to her stomach. “Wh- is he okay? Did anyone get hurt?”

“I don't think there's a report out yet,” Chloe says, “but-”

“I'll text you back,” Christine interrupts, and ends the call. She stares down at the screen, breathing quick, on the edge of hyperventilating.  _ I have to ask them- I have to know if they’re okay-- _ her fingers shake as she types out texts to her friends, terrified. 

_ [9:15] Christine C.: I'm sure I'm the last person you want to talk to rn but please let me know if you're okay please brooke  _

Send. 

_ [9:18] Christine C.: hey guys. I know you're pissed at me but I just wanted to check if you're okay because I still care about you a lot and I hope you're safe _

Send.

The waiting game that Christine plays for the next hour and a half is harder than any callback process. She knows that none of her friends really wake up before 10, usually closer to 11. Breakfast doesn't happen. But eventually, she hears back from her friends, and nearly cries in relief, shaking on her bed.

_ [10:15] Brooke L.: im fine _

_ [10:15] Brooke L.: I left before everything happened _

_ [10:16] Brooke L.: I got tired of crying in jake’s parents’ room _

Oh. That's… fair. Christine doesn't know how to apologize. Not yet.

_ [10:45] Jeremy H.: yeah lmao we're fine. _

_ [10:59] Michael M.: I only cried for half an hour ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ _

_ [11:02] Jeremy H.: we left before the fire started _

Well, at least her friends are safe. That's all she can ask for, really. But Rich and Jake and, God,  _ Jenna-  _ she doesn't have any of their numbers, so- Christine chokes back a shaky breath and exhales steady. Okay. Things are okay.

At least, she sure as hell hopes so.

 

Monday morning, anxiety curls in the pit of Christine's stomach, plaguing her thoughts as she stands beneath the scalding hot water in the shower. She was going to have to face Brooke and Michael and Jeremy, if not at lunch or in class then definitely at play rehearsal. For once in her life, she dreads it, nervousness coursing through her whenever she thinks about it. Oh, God.

The horrors only get worse when she walks through at Middle Borough High. There's people in the halls as always, but they're all… huddled. Scared. Talking in little groups, voices low, only barely there. Christine walks through the halls, looking around at the quiet distress of her fellow students. She rounds the corner to get to her locker and sees Rich’s and Jake's lockers, covered in Post-It notes, flowers placed in front of them. A girl she vaguely recognizes from her geometry class passes by her, and Christine taps on her shoulder. “What happened with Rich and Jake?” she asks. “They didn't… They didn't die in the fire, did they?” Her voice quivers with fear at the prospect.

The girl shakes her head. “Nobody died, but they're both in the hospital. Rich has major burns, obviously, and then Jake broke both of his legs…”

Christine swallows sharply. “Oh, my God… are they going to be okay?”

The girl shrugs. “I mean, probably? I dunno, that's all they said in the paper.”

Christine nods and turns away from the girl, looking back at the two lockers. “I don't think any of us would know what to do if they weren't,” she says to nobody in particular.  _ Oh, my God,  _ she thinks to herself,  _ everyone was there last night… Brooke was there, Jeremy and Michael were there-  _ Her heart plummets even further.  _...Why wasn’t  _ I  _ there?  _ To the SQUIP, she thinks,  _ Did you know this was going to happen!? _

_ I was aware of certain… probabilities,  _ the SQUIP tells her, nonchalant.

Christine sighs out a shuddering breath.  _ Did you know people were going to be hurt? _

_ I get the impression that you don’t trust me,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ Why is that? _

_ Because… because…  _ Christine pauses. ... _ Why me? _

_ I don’t understand the question. _

_ I mean, why aren’t you, like, inside of… inside of world leaders, or famous people, or people that matter more than-  _ Christine pauses-  _ just a high school actress who doesn’t know how to act like a normal person. _

_ I promise you,  _ the SQUIP says,  _ my sole function is to improve your life. Think about it- hasn't your life improved since you've gotten me? You dress better. You’re 67% more attractive. You have more experience with girls, which is to say that you've had experience, period.  _

_ Maybe so, _ Christine thinks back at it, and closes her locker with a little more force than she intended to.  _ But I really hurt Brooke, and Jeremy and Michael both think I'm a huge asshole. Not to mention, I'm further away from Jenna than ever before. You were supposed to make her like me!  _ The bell rings, high and piercing, as if to emphasize her frustration.

_ And I will, in time,  _ the SQUIP promises.  _ Jenna is only human. I must account for human error. _

Forgoing class, Christine wanders through the halls, empty now, mourning students having scurried off to their first hour classes.  _ What do you mean by human error?  _ she asks with a frown.

_ Human activity is a matter of input as well as output,  _ the SQUIP explains.  _ The fault, Christine, is in your peers. _

_ So… they need to be like me? _ Christine asks hesitantly.  _ Are you- you can't mean they all need to be SQUIPped, right?” _

_ “That's exactly what I mean,”  _ the SQUIP says.  _ I've helped you, haven't I? And Rich? Nobody picks on either of you anymore. _

_ But Rich isn't even mentally stable,  _ Christine says.  _ I mean, he burned down Jake's whole house. He's in the hospital! _

_ That only proves my point more,  _ the SQUIP says, urgency rising the slightest bit in its voice.  _ Rich’s SQUIP was disabled due to the alcohol he'd ingested. He didn't have the proper coping mechanisms. He  _ needs _ his SQUIP, Christine.  _

That quiets Christine down for a moment. If Rich really needs a SQUIP, if he's like that without one… maybe the SQUIP is right. 

_ Of course I'm right _ , the SQUIP says.  _ I'm the smartest thing you've ever encountered, and probably ever will. I'm rarely wrong. _

Christine finally looks up from the dingy ground and finds that she's back where she started: right near her locker, and, by extension,  Rich’s. The  _ Get Well Soon  _ banner fills her with nausea, and she glances away and starts to walk again, but the SQUIP stops her.

_ Open it,  _ it instructs.

_ But… I don't know the locker code, _ Christine says. She starts the tiniest bit as she finds herself placing her hand on the lock and expertly turning it to 23-7-20. Ah, right- the SQUIP can move her muscles as it pleases. On the top shelf of Rich’s locker is a box of ladies’ running shoes, and she opens it to find-  _ Holy shit,  _ Christine thinks,  _ there must be enough SQUIPs in here for- _

_ The entire school,  _ the SQUIP finishes for her.

Christine doesn't have time for the gravity of the situation to sink in before a voice from behind startles her. “Christine? What're you doing with Rich’s stuff?”

Christine whips around to see Chloe standing behind her, relaxing once she sees it isn't a threat. She's always been sort of jumpy. “Um… nothing,” she says, not suspiciously at all. When she notices the redness of Chloe’s eyes, how tired she looks, her slightly smudged mascara, Christine asks, “...What's wrong, Chloe?”

Chloe pauses, glances away. “Oh… y’know. All this stuff with Jake.” She sniffles. “We got back together, y’know, at the party, and now he's in the hospital, and, like, nobody I've ever known has been in the hospital except I guess my grandpa, but I dunno, I never really cared about him…”

_ You know what to do,  _ the SQUIP says.

Christine blinks, then takes a pill from the shoebox and hands it to Chloe. “Uh… here,” she says, “take this.”

Chloe looks down at the grey pill in her palm and asks, “Uh, Chris, is this a drug or something?” She pauses. “Eh, what do I care, I've rolled molly before.” Chloe makes a move to swallow it, but Christine stops her.

“Wait,” she says, “you have to take it with Mountain Dew. Um…”

“Oh, I actually have one on me,” Chloe says, and unzips her bag. When she retrieves the Dew, she opens it, then swiftly pops the SQUIP pill in her mouth and takes a swig of the soda. She licks her lips, pauses, frowns. “Hey, how long does it take to kick-  _ augh!”  _ Chloe drops the Mountain Dew, and it falls to the floor in a pale yellow pool, splattering on the grungy linoleum tile. “Holy  _ shit!”  _ she cries, clutching her head in her hands.

“Oh, God, sorry, I forgot to say it would hurt,” Christine says, reaching out to touch Chloe on the shoulder.

Chloe slaps her hand away with a pained whine, then inhales sharply. After a few moments, she frowns, blinks, opens her eyes. She lets go of her head and looks at Christine- no, it was almost as if she was looking through her. “You… look like Rihanna,” she murmurs.

“How’s it feel?” Christine asks hesitantly.

Chloe cracks a smile, a wide, wide grin. Her unfocused eyes refocus on her, and she says, “It feels  _ amazing, _ Christine.”

“...You were just crying,” Christine says quietly.

“Hm? Oh, I… guess I was,” Chloe says. She shrugs. “Feel a hell of a lot better now, though.”

_ You see?  _ the SQUIP says.  _ You always want everything to be perfect and follow the script. This is just a script for everyone’s head. No sudden crying, no sadness when you don’t want to feel it. Everything in your head is right when you have a SQUIP. _

_ She  _ does  _ look much happier,  _ Christine says as she watches Chloe walk away, waving at her over her shoulder.

_ Of course she does,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ And think about your friends. Wouldn’t they benefit from having a SQUIP? _

Christine considers it. Jeremy would… he’d be delighted at the thought that he could fit in, that he could act ‘normal’, maybe even a little popular. Brooke is already popular, of course, she’s more popular than Christine, but this could help her get a new girlfriend, or at least help her be less sad about losing her- maybe not even sad at all. And Michael, well, Michael’s fine with his social standing, Christine knows that, but maybe the SQUIP could give him some tips on how to finally ask Jeremy out.  _ I mean… I guess, logically, they would,  _ she says, warming up to the idea a little.  _ And they could get it for free, right? If we help them? _

_ Exactly!  _ the SQUIP says.  _ The benefit of being friends with your dealer, for lack of a better word.  _

_ Right. Right.  _ Christine looks down at the box in her hands, at the cluster of small, grey pills.  _...I’ll do it,  _ she says.  _ I’ll- I’ll help everyone get a SQUIP. _ This is the right thing to do. She has to believe that this is the right thing to do.

 

Lunch goes just about as well as Christine suspects it will… which is to say, not at all. At the very least, it’s painful. She walks into the lunch room, more reserved than usual, more quiet, and looks around for  _ anyone  _ who will let her sit with her. She tries to find Brooke, and- ah, there she is. With Michael and Jeremy, who the SQUIP is, unfortunately, allowing her to see. That’s a first.  _ What’re they talking about?  _ she wonders to herself, staring at the three of them, huddled together and looking like they’re whispering about some secret.  _ Probably talking shit about me.  _

_ Maybe so,  _ the SQUIP says with narrowed eyes.  _ No matter. That won’t be the case for much longer. And there, look- Chloe’s waving. _

That she is; the smile is still on her face as she beckons Christine over. After a last glance at her friends… if she can call them that still… she walks to Chloe’s table and gives her a little smile. “Hey, Chloe.”

“Hey, Christine,” Chloe says, and pats the seat next to her. “Here.”

Christine sets her tray down and sits hesitantly on the seat next to Chloe’s.  _ I’ve never seen her act this pleasant to anyone,  _ she thinks.

_ I’ve linked with her SQUIP,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ It makes things easier. _

Christine blinks.  _ So like… that makes her be my friend? _

_ What is friendship but a link between two people?  _ the SQUIP poses her, and Christine gives a mental shrug of acceptance. It still feels fake, but it’s more than she ever would have expected before that fateful day that Rich cornered her in a secluded practice room and tried to sell her mind-altering pills. Well, when you put it like that, it sure sounds negative.  _ Maybe so,  _ the SQUIP says,  _ but I’m better than any drug you could put in your body, and far less harmful. _

Christine has to give it that. At least her skin isn’t turning yellow and her hair isn’t falling out or… or whatever meth and cocaine and heroin do to you. She can’t really remember much of those D.A.R.E. classes from elementary school. As she half-listens to Chloe go on about, well, Chloe stuff, Christine just nods and says whatever the SQUIP supplies her with. As nice as it is that she’s being friendly- truly  _ friendly-  _ to her, she just… needs a break from Chloe. She’s not sure how Brooke does it.

But really, when she thinks about it… needing a break from Chloe is just about the best place she could be in at the moment. Sure, her real friends were mad at her, but they won’t be forever- especially when she gets them SQUIPs. Then they’ll understand. Look at her life now- the most popular girl in school is deigning to talk to her; she gets smiled at in the hallway instead of ignored, or, worse, glared at; objectively, she looks better than ever. And the SQUIP was going to take care of Jenna, too,  like it did Chloe.

_ Now, that’s what I like to hear,  _ the SQUIP says, a sly smile in its voice.  _ Things are going to be great for you, Christine. _


	6. The Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fight scenes suck im never writing one again as long as i fucking live

It’s the most amazing night of the Autumn semester. Not Jake Dillinger’s annual Halloween party- that was a bust anyway, at least for Christine. No, it’s the night of the play-  _ A Midsummer Nightmare About Zombies.  _ Not quite as good as the original, but, eh, Christine’ll take it. It’s a pretty fun role despite the complete overhaul Mr. Reyes did of the play.

_ Don’t forget your mission, now, Christine,  _ the SQUIP says as Christine slides into the backseat of her mother’s car. Right. Not only was it the night of the play, it was also the night that she would be putting the SQUIP’s plan in action. She clutches the shoebox close to her chest, waving off her mother’s questions with a short  _ It’s a prop,  _ which, luckily, she buys.

Christine’s already clad in her Puck costume- the traditional leaf covering, but with a bit more blood spattered on it, nothing fancy- when she steps through the side door of the auditorium into the backstage. Surprisingly,  she's not the first one there- Mr. Reyes is there,  of course, and Chloe, too. “Hey, Chlo,” Christine greets her, giving her a little wave. “You ready for this?”

“Am now,” Chloe says, and taps her head with a narrow-eyed smile. “Gonna be awesome, huh?”

“We're gonna rock it,” Christine agrees, the end of her sentence eclipsed by the side door opening with a heavy clunk. She turns around to see Brooke, Jeremy, and Michael, and whips back around with a ramrod straight back before they can notice she's looking- hopefully.

_ Don't worry,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ They'll be back on your side eventually.  _

Christine smiles at the thought.  _ Yeah, I guess you're right. _ She looks back at the three of them, but they're chatting in the corner now, and they're not going to notice her. Thank God.

As per habit- and because it's smart- Christine takes her script and runs over it one last time, sitting just behind the curtains.  _ “How now, spirit?” _ she asks the quiet air.  _ “Wither wander thou?” _ She knows he doesn't have to practice, now that the SQUIP is with her, but still, it’s soothing.

“Places for scene two, everyone!” Mr. Reyes announces about forty-five minutes later, raising his voice so everyone can hear him. Puck doesn't come in until the second act, so Christine hasn't gone out and seen how everyone's doing, but she's hoping everything is coming together. It's one of the best feelings in the world, and everyone is going to be _amazing_ soon, just as long as she pulls off the SQUIPpening, as she's dubbed the plan. 

Christine turns back to Mr. Reyes and catches sight of Brooke, Michael, and Jeremy- and pauses. They're leaning against the wall, still talking- their characters don't appear for a while yet either- but Christine blinks in surprise as she notices one thing: Michael holding Jeremy's hand. Jeremy's pale, slender fingers are threaded through Michael's, and, as Christine watches, Michael squeezes his hand, and Jeremy squeezes back.

“He did it,” she breathes, inaudible to anyone but her. “He asked him out.” She grins, genuinely happy for both of them, but- wait.

_ What?  _ the SQUIP asks, eyes narrowed.

_ He really didn't need a SQUIP,  _ Christine says softly.  _...He asked him out anyway.  _

The SQUIP tenses.  _ And? _

_ It's just… why would he ever want it now? He has everything he wants,  _ Christine says.  _ And- and look at Brooke, she's seems like she's doing a lot better already, and, and…  _ She purses her lips.  _ Maybe this was a bad idea. I mean, we shouldn't do this without their permission. We should just put these back in RICH’s locker, and-  _

Wait.

_ Why does the box feel so light?  _  Her heart sinks into her stomach.  _ No, it can't be. Please let me be wrong- _

The shoebox is empty.

Christine's fingers shake on the lid, and she swallows sharply.  _ What…? _

_ I anticipated your resistance, too, Christine,  _ the SQUIP says, voice cold and robotic in her head.  _ So I took the decision out of your hands. _

Her attention breaks away from the SQUIP when Mr. Reyes praises Jake with an “Excellent job, Mr. Dillinger!”

“Excellent?” Christine echoes. “But… Jake’s terrible!” Her eyes fall on a table a few feet away, upon which sits a beaker that Mr. Reyes probably borrowed from the science department. A sick, yellow-green liquid sits stagnant inside of it. “...Mr. Reyes?” she asks hesitantly. “What’s- what’s in the beaker for my pansy serum?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about the color. It’s perfectly non-toxic,” Mr. Reyes answers, smiling. “We don’t want a repeat of last year’s Arsenic and Old Lace debacle. It’s just plain old Mountain Dew!” After thinking a moment, he adds, “Also, Chloe Valentine put these Wintergreen Tic-Tacs in the bottom.”

Christine feels a wave of freezing dread crash over her. “N-no! Mr. Reyes, you can’t let anyone drink from that beaker!”

Mr. Reyes laughs at that, a deep belly laugh. “Don’t be silly! It’s more than safe. I should know… I tried it myself.”

_ Up up down down left right A,  _ comes a voice from the back of Christine’s head that’s becoming less and less human by the second.

And Mr. Reyes... changes.

Before Christine’s eyes, he shrugs off years of schlubby nerdiness. His eyes are fierce, determined, almost hostile; his posture stiffens as he puffs out his chest; he looks… intimidating, for once. No longer a pushover, no longer a loser. 

Fear deepening, Christine says, “Excuse me, I’ve gotta get out there,” but Mr. Reyes grabs her arm in a vice grip, staring intensely down at her.

“I can’t let you do that, Christine,” he says.

Christine gulps. “M-Mr. Reyes?” she stammers.

“You needy, pathetic, self-centered students!” Mr. Reyes has fire in his tone now, deep and dark and nothing like the friendly middle-aged man that Christine had had many an after-school chat with. “You think I wanted to teach high school drama? In  _ New Jersey? _ My SQUIP says I can go all the way to Broadway! I just have to make sure you don’t ruin my big night.”

Christine walks in dismay as Mr. Reyes strides off, exiting into the hall for God knows what nefarious reasons. _What the Hell is this?_ she demands of the SQUIP. _That’s not Mr. Reyes!_ _What are you doing to them?_

_ I’m syncing their desires to yours,  _ the SQUIP explains calmly, not flinching at Christine’s anger.  _ Now I realize: my system can only truly be complete when everyone shares a social network. _

_ Well then, I’ll throw out the-  _ Christine whips back around to the table with the Mountain Dew/SQUIP concoction, and her heart freezes.

“Aw, hell, yeah, I think this is just plain Dew,” Michael says, eyeing the beaker. “I totally forgot to drink anything earlier, all I’ve had is gross-ass fountain water.” He rifles around in his backpack for a second before pulling out an empty water bottle, because he’s not a heathen who would drink right out of the jug (well, the beaker, in this case.) “Yo, Jer, you want some? I’m sure Mr. Reyes won’t notice.”

“Ooh, sure,” Jeremy says, and joins Michael by the table. Michael fills the blue-tinted plastic bottle with Dew (and, in this case, SQUIPs) and takes a long drink from it before handing it off to Jeremy.

“Guys, wai-” Christine tries to shout, but all of a sudden it feels like she’s being strangled, like she can’t speak at all.  _ Fuck! Let me go!  _ she cries to the SQUIP, but it gives no response, coolly silent. 

“Ow, holy shit!” Jeremy cries, dropping the now-empty water bottle and clutching his head as he falls to the floor.

Michael reaches out to his best friend- boyfriend? Christine’s not really sure anymore, not that it matters right now. “Whoa, Jer, are you alr- oh, Jesus Christ!” He grunts and covers his mouth to keep from shouting, presumably not wanting to disturb the play.

They sit there, writhing slightly in pain for a second, before both of them open their eyes wide, pupils blown. “Holy shit,” Jeremy murmurs. “Keanu Reeves?”

“Jeff Mangum? I never knew you were a robot.”

_ You’re going to SQUIP the whole cast!  _ Christine gasps, horrified, as she looks to the SQUIP.  _ That’s not what I wanted! _

_ It’s the only way to get what you want!  _ the SQUIP says. It no longer even sounds human- its voice is freezing cold, robotic, mechanical; Christine feels a shiver shoot down her spine. 

She racks her brain for a moment, trying to find  _ some  _ way to end this, to make things right.  _ You’re- well, you’re a computer!  _ she says.  _ There’s gotta be a way to turn you off! _

The SQUIP shakes its head.  _ I’d stop there,  _ it says.  _ You don’t want to end up like Rich, now, do you? _

And Christine  _ remembers. _

 

_ She’s not crying anymore, thank god. Her face is probably still a bit wet, eyes a bit red, but whatever. She’ll blame it on something in her eye. Maybe she could say she got secondhand stoned.  _

_ Christine carefully navigates the halls of Jake Dillinger’s frankly enormous house, trying not to make anyone spill anything or interrupt their drunken dancing. God, she wishes she could be like them, happy and carefree. It was her fault, she knows that, but it stings. The bouncy, happy 80s music that plays from the speakers is painful, a mockery of her misery. _

_ She wasn’t exactly sure where the door to the backyard is, but she finds it eventually, in the living room past the swarm of jostling students. Lord. “Excuse me, excuse me,” Christine murmurs as she pushes through, resigning herself to the sweaty mass of bodies. She gets elbowed a couple times, but oh well. She deserves it. _

_ It’s when she’s managed to get within five feet of the door when she overhears what Rich is saying. _

_ “Jakey, Jakey, Jakey. Look.” Christine turns to see Rich putting shaky hands on Jake’s shoulders. The taller boy looks a little bewildered. “I need. I  _ need _. Mountain. Dew. Red.” _

_ “I… I got normal Dew and maybe some Voltage?” Jake offers. “Rich, dude, I’m pretty sure they stopped making Red, like, twenty years ago.” _

_ “Rich, are you, like… okay?” Chloe asks, one eyebrow cocked in an odd mix of concern and scorn. “Go lay down or something, stop snorting coke.” _

_ “I’m not snorting coke!” Rich’s voice is high-pitched and frantic, and he shakes his hands vigorously. “Look! I just need some fucking Mountain Dew Red! It’s like normal Mountain Dew, but red!” _

_ Jake takes one of Rich’s hands in his, as if to comfort him, and says, “Here, come with me. You can hang out in my bedroom ‘til you come down. Stay the night if you-” _

_ Rich wrenches his hand away from Jake violently and backs away, bumping into someone and knocking their beer over in the process. Before they can respond, he’s off, shouldering his way through the makeshift dance floor. Jake and Chloe shout after him, and Christine just watches, frowning, before she shakes her head and turns for the door. _ Always knew that guy was a crackhead, _ she thinks to herself. _

 

_ Mountain Dew Red!  _ Christine’s eyes widen, and she stiffens.  _ N-normal Mountain Dew activates you… Red turns you off? _

The SQUIP smirks. _Why do you think we had it discontinued?_ _To get rid of me now, you’d need a time machine to the 1990s._

_ Well- well, Michael buys old sodas all the time!  _ Christine says.  _ Maybe he… maybe he… _ Oh. She glances over to where Michael and Jeremy are still standing near the Mountain Dew/SQUIP concoction, and, just like Mr. Reyes, the two of them have changed. Jeremy’s no longer slouching; instead, his back is straight, and he runs a hand through his hair in a manner that’s  _ cool  _ instead of his typical _ nervous.  _ Michael has discarded his hoodie on the table and is instead standing, hands on his hips, in what’s actually a very well-fitting red polo shirt.  _ So he was actually fashionable under there,  _ Christine muses.  _ Who’da thunk. ...Not the point! _

Before Christine can call out to Michael- if he had it, she’d ditch the play and run all the way to his house, she doesn’t care anymore- the SQUIP interrupts her with another  _ Up, up, down, down, left, right, A. _

Michael’s eyes shoot open again, pupils contracting before dilating again. As Jeremy looks at him with mild concern, he looks over at Christine, and, with a sly, narrow-eyed smile, shakes his head.  _ Shit!  _ Christine curses internally, clenches her eyes shut. Despite herself, a tear leaks from the corner of one, streaking down her cheek.  _ I can’t do this anymore. I give up. I give up. I… _

_ Now, that’s the spirit, Christine,  _ the SQUIP says.  _ Let this happen. Won’t it feel great to have a whole school full of friends? And we don’t have to stop there! _

“Someone just please help me,” Christine mumbles as she sinks to the floor. “Someone help me. Someone help-”

And then there’s fingers, slender, soft fingers brushing away the hear from her sweating forehead. There’s a hand on her face, thumb rubbing at her cheekbone. “Christine?” Brooke asks. “Chrissy, what’s wrong?”

Christine’s eyes snap open, tears falling from her eyelashes. “Brooke,” she whispers. “Brooke, thank God, it’s the-”

_ Vocal cords: block. _

\- th- the Ssssss-” Again, it feels like she’s choking, barely able to breathe; Christine tries to speak, but all that comes out is dead air. 

Brooke frowns. “Christine, what’s going on? Did you- did you eat shellfish or something!?”

“No! It’s the-” She manages to tap two fingers to the side of her head, and Brooke’s eyes widen in realization.

“Oh, my God! What’s it doing to you?” she asks.

Christine hiccups, blinking her eyes tight again. Mustering all her strength as she tries to take back control of her voice box, she coughs out, “It's going to SQUIP everyone- Brooke, get rid of it, please!"

Brooke presses a kiss to Christine’s forehead and nods. "I know just what to do," she says quietly.

"The Red!?" Christine asks, taken aback. "You got Mountain Dew Red?"

Brooke nods enthusiastically. "Me and Michael and Jeremy found someone who was selling it, cuz Michael did his research and everything, y'know? And he's got some in his-"

Christine blinks, her face falling, and sits up straighter. "Shit, Brooke, he's been SQUIPped!"

"Shit!" Brooke echoes. She pauses, thinking, then looks back at Christine with a grin. "Wait! Christine! Your muscles!"

"My... my muscles?" Christine asks. A grin crosses her face to match Brooke's. "Brooke! My muscles! I knew that weightlifting wasn't for nothing!"

_ Too bad you haven't been practicing, _ the SQUIP says, nonchalant.

Christine frowns, glancing to where its projection stands in her field of vision.  _ Well, good thing I know Michael's weak spots! _ Keep your optimism up, keep your vibe up, keep your energy up. That's always been her motto. Getting a second wind at Brooke's realization, she stands up, dusts off her skirt, and strides over to where Michael and Jeremy are standing.

From behind her, Christine hears the SQUIP repeat  _ Up, up, down, down, left, right, A _ again, and Jeremy's eyes go wide. She doesn't care.

"I'm sorry for this, Michael," she says, truly meaning it, before she grabs his shoulder, turns him away from Jeremy and toward her, and slaps him in the face. "Brooke! Grab his bag!" she cries.

Brooke runs over towards the bag that sits on the dusty floor between Michael and Jeremy, but, before she can get there, Jeremy wraps his arms around her, restraining her. "Let me go, Jerry!" she snaps, writhing around in his arms. Unfortunately, Brooke had never joined in on Christine's weightlifting sessions.

"I can't do that, Brooke," Jeremy says, voice oddly cool, too calm and collected from a boy who a) has never been calm or collected in his life and b) someone who apparently cares about Brooke- 'Jerry'? Really?- and c) who is generally not a violent person and would never do something like this. Christine's heart breaks, but she can't focus on them for long, because, of course, there's Michael.

Wrenching her head- and line of sight- away from Brooke and Jeremy, Michael turns her toward himself with both hands on her cheeks, then crashes their foreheads together. After a second, he chuckles. "Can't even feel the pain!"

Christine breaks away and rubs at her forehead, more startled than pained, though the ache does seep deep into every bone in her head. "Crap," she hisses. "He can't feel pain!?"

_ Just one of our many tricks as SQUIPS,  _ the SQUIP explains with a shrug.  _ Unfortunately, compliance is necessary if you want me to provide the same service to you. _

Christine shakes it off. "Michael, I'm so sorry, but I have to do this," she repeats. It's not enough of an apology, God, she has so much to apologize for, but if she's going to be getting in fisticuffs with him, well. That warrants a heartfelt 'sorry'. ...Speaking of fists: Christine rams one of hers into Michael's stomach, and he grunts, knocked back a little bit. She may have overestimated herself; he's got at least eight inches on her. Still, she'll be damned if she lets the SQUIP take over everyone- her best friend, her other best friends... and, above all, Jenna. Oh, Jenna.

Michael takes the opportunity of Christine's useless lesbianism to push her away and grab the bag by his feet. "I know what you want, Christine," he says coolly.

"Just- just give it to me!" Christine pleads, though she knows it's futile.

Michael laughs at that, his hearty, snorting laugh that Jeremy has waxed poetic about many times to her at one in the morning. "I don't think I can do that." And, with that, he tosses the backpack to Jeremy.

Jeremy, who is, of course, synced with Michael now, catches it masterfully- it's an odd image, Jeremy having any sort of hand-eye coordination that isn't strictly video game-related- and Brooke launches herself at him. Christine smirks. Bad idea, Mikey.

But Jeremy's enSQUIPpened strength is no match for Brooke's. He kicks her away, and she whines in pain. Jeremy unzips the backpack and grabs the Mountain Dew Red from it, jokingly inspecting the two liter bottle with raised eyebrows before he takes the cap off. The soda hisses, and Christine's heart falls to her stomach. "No! Jeremy!"

And Jeremy pours out the Red.

"Fuck!" Brooke cries, voice turning into a growl.  _ "Shit!" _

Unfortunately for Jeremy, he left the bag sitting on the floor. Brooke stands up on shaking legs, grabs it, and whacks him directly in the face with all the force she can manage. "Take that, you robot bastard!"

Jeremy stumbles away, caught off guard, and drops the empty bottle. Before Michael can grab and restrain her, Christine runs over to the bottle, getting major rug burn- laminated wood burn?- her knees as she falls into a slide beside it. She grabs it, hoping and praying to any god that will listen that there's at least a drop or two left- and there is. "Brooke!" she calls. "Brooke, there's still some left!"

"Got it!" Brooke says, and Christine barely manages to throw it to her before she's tackled by Michael. 

She squeaks as his weight presses her to the ground, and writhes beneath him, trying to kick him off. "Mikey! Get the Hell off of me!"

"No dice, Chris," Michael says, breath uncomfortably warm on her neck. Ew.

And, as if things couldn't get worse, a third challenger appears. "There you are, Brooke," Chloe says coolly as she steps behind the curtain into the backstage area. "You really think an insecure beta like you could overthrow me and all the SQUIPs? God, you really can be stupid sometimes."

Unseen by Christine, Brooke grits her teeth, jaw tense. "...Stupid? I'm not stupid. You're-" She pauses, takes a deep breath. "You're just a bitch!" 

Despite the dire straits, Christine whoops. "Go Brookie!" she calls, and the sheer power of Brooke standing up to Chloe is just what it takes to invigorate her as she manages to wriggle out from underneath Michael. Brooke's words, though, aren't enough to push away Brooke, and she lets out a screech as Chloe grabs her by the hair, tugging tight. 

Frankly terrified of Chloe, Christine takes a moment to regroup and backs away from the chaos- straight into Jake Dillinger.  _ Shit! _

"Christine, you were always so cute," he says as he wrestles the soda out of Christine's startled hands. There's a robotic twang to his voice as he continues, "Why do you want to be a stick in the mud so bad?"

Christine whips around, glares up at Jake, and shouts, "I'm a lesbian, you fuck!" Thankfully, Jake leaves her alone as he notices- or, more likely, is notified- that it's Brooke who has the Mountain Dew Red. "Brooke!" she calls, but Brooke is too slow to react; within a few moments, all four of the SQUIP zombies are upon her. Before she's overtaken fully by them, though, she chucks the bottle at Christine, and Christine just barely manages to catch it, bouncing around in her hands before she gets a full grip on it. 

Christine stares at the mess, breathing heavily. "Oh, my God, Brooke," she murmurs, and squeezes her eyes shut. She uncaps the bottle and tips it, but she can't open her mouth, no matter how hard she tries. 

_ You don't want to drink that, _ the SQUIP warns her, eyes narrowed.

_ Why not!? _ Christine demands. All she wants is for this to end.

_ Because then you'll never be with her. _

And there she is. Jenna Rolan, coming backstage like an angel in a raggedy doctor's outfit with swagger in her gait and a confident grin on her lips. "Christine!" she calls out to her. "They loved me out there, girl."

"Of course they did," Christine breathes, a smile on her face. "You've made so much improvement over the past couple months. You're really becoming a great actress."

Jenna smiles wider and waves off the compliment. "Anyway... I'm glad I found you back here, Christine. I wanted to apologize."

Christine cocks her head, letting the hand holding the bottle fall to her side- she's careful, of course, not to let any of the remaining soda out. "Apologize? For what? You haven't done anything wrong."

Jenna shakes her head. "Yes, I do. I insulted your progress, all the ways you've changed in the past few weeks. But Christine... you're _ beautiful." _ She puts a hand on Christine's cheek, and Christine leans into the touch. "I didn't think so at first, but... everyone's better with a SQUIP."

Christine shakes off Jenna's hand, takes a step back. It feels like someone's shot her straight through the heart.  _ That's not Jenna. _

_ I assure you, it is, the SQUIP says,  _ sounding sincere for once.  _ Only, her fears and insecurities have been removed. _

Jenna smiles at Christine, and it's so warm, and it's so fond, and it's so... heartbreaking, because she knows this isn't real- not completely. "I didn't think I was ready to say it before, but... Christine. I love you." Christine doesn't respond at first, and Jenna frowns. "...Christine? Is... there something you wanted to say?"

_ That's your cue, _ the SQUIP says, egging her on.

Christine swallows sharply.  _ She'll do whatever I want, _ she says softly to nobody in particular.

_ That's what I promised.  _ There's a soft smile on the SQUIP's face. ...Christine hates it.

Still, she says,  _ Great _ .

She hands the bottle to Jenna.

Jenna drinks it.

And the world erupts into pain.

A scream tears itself from Christine's throat as she falls to the ground, body seizing the same way as it had all those weeks ago when the SQUIP first activated. Pain shoots through every inch of her being, tearing her apart as she writhes on the dirty floor. She hears screams rise up around her as well, the soft, nasal alto of Jeremy's voice mingling with the semi-sultry lowness of Chloe's as they howl in pain.

Faintly, she hears the voice of Brooke- poor, patient, lovely Brooke- as she shouts, "What the FUCK is going on here!?"

And, as if someone had flipped a lightswitch, the world cuts to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER..... . thanks for stickin with me n the story thru this month :')


	7. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god im so exhausted i almost forgot to publish this today and i really wish i was not awake or at the Very least not sober but HERE'S THIS

Christine’s vision swims and blurs in front of her. She can barely find the strength to open them more than a crack for the first few minutes of consciousness; fatigue has settled in her bones like concrete, and she wants to go back to sleep, dammit. It feels like it’s been forever since she last was awake. “...Hello?” she croaks, not sure what else to do.

There comes a voice from a few feet to her left. “Feels like you’re missing part of yourself, doesn’t it?”

Christine frowns, then opens her eyes fully. “...Rich?” she asks, and tries to sit up to get a better look at her roommate, but hisses sharply when pain spikes up in her aching back. “Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow…”

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy, Chris,” Rich says. “Hurts like a motherfucker too.”

Groaning, but managing to stay upright, Christine nods. She’d closed them as she winced from the pain, but she opens her eyes now and takes in Rich. _Good Lord._ He was seated in an itchy-looking full body cast, a hesitant smile on his face, like he isn’t sure if he should be making light of the situation. “...Jeez,” Christine says, not finding any other words.

“...Yeah,” Rich sighs, resigned. “Well, it’s my fault anyway. ...They sayin’ some shit about me at school?”

Ignoring the raw ache in her shoulders, Christine shrugs. “Oh… y’know. Just the usual. Some people think you’re gay, some people think you left the country, some people think you’re dead. It could be worse, I guess.”

Rich sighs deeply, but the smile on his face brightens for a second. “Y’know? So what! I’m finally free of that shiny happy hivemind!” He looks up at the ceiling as if it was a sunny sky that filled him with energy and hope. “When I get outta here, the ladies are gonna learn to love the _real_ Richard Goranski.” He pauses. “And the dudes. Oh, my God, I’m totally bi!”

Christine gives a whoop of laughter and celebration. “Aw, hell yeah!” she says, and gives Rich a long-distance high five, with he reciprocates gleefully. “That’s great! We’re buddies!” She thinks for a second, though, and her smile falls slightly as she ponders something. “Wait… you got rid of your SQUIP? How’d that happen?”

“Ask your girlfriend,” Rich says, and Christine cocks her head in confusion. “Brooke? She’s been around every day waiting for you to wake up.”

Christine blinks in surprise,  but before she can say anything to combat Rich’s misconception, there’s a knock at the door, and the lady herself, Brooke Lohst, enters the stale white hospital room. “Brooke!” Christine breathes, relieved. “What… what _happened?”_

“Well… Michael told me about it, and I didn’t really understand everything… but, basically, all the SQUIPs were linked,” Brooke explains, “and so you only had to destroy one of them to make them all deactivate.” She glances away, worries her lips awkwardly.

Christine pauses, then sighs. “You, um… after all the stuff I did… leading you on and ignoring you and stuff… You were still there for me. Why?”

“Because I care about you, silly,” Brooke says, giving her a smile that mixes sadness and happiness in a way that’s almost beautiful. “You’re my best friend, and I love you. ...And Jenna’s gonna love you, too. She said so.”

“You talked to her!?” Christine asks, eyes widening.

Brooke nods. “Yeah. I think, at the end of the day… the thing that would make me the most happy is _you_ being happy.”

Christine feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and one trickles down her face as she mumbles, “...Jesus, Brooke.” She licks her lips, looks away as she becomes nigh overcome with emotion. “You know… before anything else… before I talk to Jenna or, or anyone…” She looks back at Brooke with a steely gaze. “I think I wanna cut my hair.”

 

The halls of Middle Borough look different when Christine takes her first step inside the door. She’s been out for four days, getting examined at the hospital and recuperating at home, and it’s good to be back. For her first day after so long a break (in her mind, anyway), she wears her favorite outfit: blue jeans, a white crew-neck shirt, and a jean jacket adorned with a variety of pins. Comfortable clothes. Men’s clothes. _Butch_ clothes.

Halfway to her home ec class, she sees Michael and Jeremy- really _sees_ them- and god, there’s that feeling again, that overwhelming rush of emotion. She doesn’t know if she’s forgiven, how much she should apologize, if Brooke talked to them… she doesn’t know _anything,_ but still, Christine sidles up alongside them as they talk at Jeremy’s locker. “Uh… hey,” she says quietly.

Michael looks over at her and smiles, giving a little sigh of relief. “Chris… hey,” hey says. Jeremy turns around as well and gives her that charming, doofy smile of his, as always. “Uh, how’re you feeling?”

“Oh, y’know.” Christine shrugs. “Achy. ...Guilty.” She bites the inside of her cheek, choosing her words carefully, before saying, “I, uh… you two, I’m really sorry. I can’t believe I abandoned two of my closest friends just for a girl and a few party invitations.”

Jeremy and Michael exchange a Meaningful Look. “I’m… not gonna say everything’s 100% okay, ‘cuz it’s not,” Jeremy says slowly, “but we were talking about it, and, uh. We forgive you, Chrissy. I don’t think either of us could ever hate you.”

Michael chuckles, runs a hand through the hair on the back of his head. “You’re a sweet girl, Christine. You made a mistake. I mean, yeah, it sucked ass, but y’know. Jer’s right- nobody’s going to hold that against you to the grave or anything.”

Christine breathes a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God,” she says softly. Rubbing her arm somewhat uncomfortably, she asks, “...Group hug?”

“Group hug,” Jeremy agrees, and Christine squeaks in delight as he bends down to pick her up; Michael hugs the two of them from the other side, making them into sort of a friend love sandwich. She knows she’s making them late, but Christine can’t find it in her to care, and she’s pretty sure neither of them give a damn, either.

Lunchtime, three hours later, goes… well, God, it’s the best time Christine’s had in weeks. She’s seated next to Michael and Jeremy as always, but this time Brooke’s there too- “These guys are really nice! We started talking more after the Halloween party,” she’d explained. There’s lots of chatting, there’s lots of laughter, there’s… Chloe Valentine and Jake Dillinger?  

 _Well, that’s unexpected,_ Christine thinks to herself, watching in disbelief as the two of them sit down across from her. “Hey, Chloe, hey, Jake,” she says hesitantly, giving a little wave.

“Yo,” Jake greets her, smiling in a way that, Christine will admit, is objectively charming. “How’s it hangin’?”

Christine shrugs. “Could be worse. My whole body still kinda hurts a little, but they gave me painkillers, so.”

Jake nods and looks as if he’s about to say something, but Chloe cuts him off with an, “Alright, let’s cut the crap. Christine, we gotta talk about something important.”

Nervously, Christine asks, “...Uh, what would that be?”

“Your huge lesbian crush on Jenna,” Chloe answers, and narrows her eyes with that famous Chloe Valentine smirk.

The rest of Christine’s friends burst into laughter- Michael slaps a palm on the grey tabletop, and Chloe giggles into the long sleeves of her cardigan. “H-hey now!” Christine blurts, flustered. “You didn’t have to go and say it that loud!”

“Relax, Canigula,” Chloe says, and waves her hand dismissively. “Look. I’m gonna give you some tips here. I’ve known Jenna for _years,_ and I know exactly how to ask her out.”

“...Right,” Christine says, squirming a little in her seat. “...Well?”

"The first thing is not to worry," Chloe says, and the rest of the table nods in agreement. "If you go over there acting like a little pissbaby and cry out your confession she's gonna be turned off so bad that her pussy'll be like a desert for the next five years."  
Christine, who was taking a drink from her trusty water bottle, does a spit take, wetting the table in front of her with drops of clear liquid. "Chloe! You can't just talk like that!" But she's laughing, of course, because this side of Chloe is probably her favorite. Who doesn't love a girl who's a little crude once in a while?  
"Okay, Jesus, Chloe," Michael says, at Christine's right side. "No need to put it like that, but she's got a point. You weren't... there for it..." His voice turns somber, but he shakes it off. "But like, literally what I did was I went up to Jeremy and asked him to lunch. I had to tell him it was a date, like, three times, because I didn't think he understood, but it worked out well, y'know?"  
"I'm not that naive!" Jeremy protests. "I knew it was a date, dude. You didn't need to say it a trillion times."  
"Guys, focus!" Brooke says, clapping her hands a couple times. "Right now, we're trying to get Christine here a girlfriend."  
_Jeez,_ Christine _thinks, they're all doing this for me, after everything. This is the nicest anyone's ever been to me._ "Um... okay, well... I have to be courageous, what else?"  
"Work your cute side!" Brooke says before Chloe can answer. "I mean, your tough side is hot as hell. Like, those muscles, oh my God..." She takes a moment to collect herself. Old crushes die hard. "But like! Your chivalry? That's adorable, and good. Your puns are really cute. And your enthusiasm for theatre!"  
"So what I'm getting here is..." Christine mimics writing down notes with one pointer finger on the table, and Jake chuckles. "I have to walk in there like I own the place, sweep her off her feet with a theatre pun... and then I get a girlfriend? Is that how it works?" She laughs a little. "It can't be that simple."  
"Well... okay, what hints has she given you?" Jeremy asks. "Like... hints that she likes you. What has she complimented about you?"  
After thinking on it for a second, Christine answers, "She said she liked how unique I am? And how I had, uh, what were the words..." She's not really used to having to remember things again- no supercomputer in her brain to record things automatically. "Oh, uh, she liked my 'zest for life'. Which I think I still have?" _Oh, that sounded awfully depressing._  
Nobody comments on it, though. "Well, yeah, that's one of the best things about you!" Jeremy says, and leans over Michael to pat her on the back. Michael gives a little grumble as he's squished against the table. "Sorry, babe..."  
Christine gives him a bright, toothy smile, and giggles a little. "Aw, thanks, Jer! I mean, if I'm around her, I'm sure I'll be happy..."  
"Aw, that is the cutest thing I've heard all day," Jake says, dimples showing as he grins. "She's definitely gonna love you, dude. How could she not?"  
Flustered, Christine buries her head in her hands. "Stop it! You guys are too nice!"  
The rest of them just laugh, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Christine's heart is light.

  
Christine's not really sure if she's ready to do it then, the first day back at school, but her phone's been blowing up with encouraging- sometimes even forceful- texts, and she's pretty much resigned herself to doing it by the time the end of sixth hour rolls around. It's a lot, being back at school for a whole six hours after chilling out at home for a couple days, but after a yawn and a stretch she's ready to get on the road again. But first, of course, comes Confession Time. Chloe had, in her words, 'secured the target', meaning that Jenna was waiting outside the gym for reasons that she probably wasn't sure of yet, probably confused, probably thinking about leaving... Christine runs as fast as her little baby legs will take her and finally ends up at the gym at around 3:08.  
Oh, God, there she is. Jenna Rolan, in all her cute butchy glory, leaning against the wall and typing absently at her phone, one leg crossed over the other at the ankles. At the sound of Christine's quick, light footsteps, she looks up and smiles. "Christine, hey!" she says, and gives a little wave. "I was just waiting for Chloe, she wanted something... you in on it?"  
"Actually, I... am the 'it'," Christine says, then frowns as she realizes how incomprehensible that. Jenna certainly seems confused by it, at least. "Okay, I mean, like, Chloe isn't coming. She... sent you here to talk to me." She gives her her charming-est grin, which she definitely didn't practice in the bathroom for three of the five minutes between her fifth and sixth hour classes.  
Jenna raises her eyebrows, the hint of a smile crossing her lips. "Oh?"  
"Yeah! I actually wanted to ask you, um..." Christine takes a deep, deep breath. In and out. In and out. She's not scared at all! She really isn't. Just a little freakin' terrified. "I wanted to ask you, like, okay, wait. First things first, like, you know the night of the play? When we all, like, got messed up and ruined the play and I had to go to the hospital?"  
"Uh, yeah, actually," Jenna says, wincing at the memory. "They keep telling us it was ecstasy, but... between you and me, I've rolled molly, and that was _not_ molly."  
Christine blinks in surprise. "You... you've done ecstasy?"  
"Only twice. It wasn't really my thing." Jenna shrugs. "But yeah, that whole... SQU... SQUID? No, SQUIP- that whole SQUIP business was weird as hell." She shakes her head. "Why? What's up?"  
Out of pure curiosity, Christine asks, "Ooh. What'd yours look like?"  
"Eddie Murphy," Jenna answers, and Christine nods in approval. "Christine, where are you going with this?"  
"Okay, okay, okay, I do have a point here. Um... You know like... on Halloween, when you said you missed how unique and, and enthusiastic I was?" Christine says. "It was... because of the SQUIP. You had it for one night, but I had it for weeks, and it kinda made me conform to the status quo, y'know? So I could be cool."  
"So that's why you were looking all femme all of a sudden," Jenna says, nodding in understanding. "That's... that's messed up. Don't sacrifice something like that just to get cool." She chuckles. "I know it seems hypocritical, since I'm one of the 'popular ones', I guess, but... I'm still butch. I'm still fat. You don't need to be perfectly conforming, y'know?"  
"Yeah, but you have eyes and ears everywhere... you have an advantage," Christine says, then shakes her head. "Wait! Okay, no, it's not that. The point is... I tried to change myself into someone I'm not, and I'm trying to get back from all that, and-"  
"Well, you sure look a lot cuter this way," Jenna cuts in.  
A blush rises to Christine's face the second she registers what Jenna's just said. "Wh-what!?" she squeaks. "Really?"  
"Would I lie?" Jenna asks, and smiles disarmingly. "I've always preferred butches."  
And Christine almost dies on the spot, right then and there, because _seriously?_ All this- all the money and the emotional trauma and the changing everything about herself- just to hear that Jenna was into butches all along and she didn't need to tear down her own identity and push herself into the opposite? All she can do is laugh, so she does; she laughs until she doubles over and even more after that. _Shit! Fuck! Oh, my God!_ she curses internally as Jenna just sits there and watches with a concerned expression.  
"Uh... what's so funny?" she asks, eyes narrowed. "Is that, like... bad?"  
"No! No, oh my God, that's the best news I've heard all day," Christine answers, breathing heavily as she stands up straight again. "Oh, God. I spent $600 and got, like, emotionally abused by a little computer in my head and you're butch4butch anyway. Oh, my whole entire God."  
Hesitantly, Jenna pats Christine on the shoulder. "You good, Chrissy?"  
Christine's heart soars at the nickname, and suddenly, yeah, of course she's okay. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm good," she says, then sighs. "Okay, I swear on my life I was going somewhere with this. Um. I took that pill, though, because I... I wanted to be someone you liked. I wanted you to like me."  
Jenna frowns, puts her hand on Christine's shoulder again and keeps it there. "Hon... I already liked you. You didn't have to do that just for my affections."  
"Yeah, I guess," Christine sighs, then pauses. "Wait. You liked me?"  
"Yeah, girl, I liked you!" Jenna says, and laughs a warm, hearty laugh. "I didn't really realize it at first, but when I stopped seeing that sweet, happy, cute butch around... I missed her. I knew it was still you, but you just seemed like a completely different person."  
Christine breathes a flustered giggle, looking at Jenna with wide eyes. "Do... you still like me? Like, enough to go on a date with me? We could get lunch, or coffee, or like, I dunno, go ice skating, although I'm not good at ice skating or anything, maybe we could do karaoke? I mean, I've heard you sing a little and you're amazing, and I've been in choir since the fifth grade..."  
"Christine, Christine, slow down," Jenna says, face splitting into a wide smile. "Yes, I'll go on a date with you. Coffee, at Starbucks, noon this Saturday. Is that a good time?"  
Christine nods vigorously. "Oh, my God, any time is a good time, oh my God, I'm actually going on a date with Jenna Rolan-" She hadn't realized it before, but she's flapping her hands hard, unable to contain her excitement and glee. It's become instinct to stop over the past five weeks, so she does, trying to hold them still by her side. "Oops, sorry..."  
Jenna snorts. "Don't be! It's cute. Go on and flap."  
She sounds so genuine, Christine can barely believe it, but she has to, because she just sounds so genuine... "Really?"  
"Yeah!" Jenna says. "It's one of those unique things about you. I love that shit, for real. I love all of that about you."  
"Stop it, stop it, I'm gonna cry," Christine says, but she's grinning so hard her face hurts. "Oh, man. Ah, jeez. I- do you just wanna- stay here? Talk for a little? Or uh, do you have somewhere else to be..."  
"Where's a better place to be than here with you?" Jenna asks, sliding directly into Christine's heart, and she swears she could die right there.  
But she doesn't.  
Instead, she chats with an incredible girl, just sitting there by the gym for another hour, and then two, and it's the greatest day of her life, or so it feels in the moment.  
Even when the voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like Hillary Clinton says, _You're weak without me, Christine._ __  
Even when it says, _This will never last, Christine._ __  
You'll fuck this up, Christine.  
Even then it's the best day of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for stickin with me lads. luv u. thanks for all the support!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I love you!!
> 
> Updates will be... probably around every four days?


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